Court Ordered Diet
by Surplus Imagination
Summary: Events are wrapping up at Privet Drive. 'It's All True, Every Word' is now up. How will Harry finish things with his cousin? Based on a real news story, Dudley Dursley is ordered by the court to lose weight as a part of his punishment for his delinquen
1. Dudley Gets Caught

**Court Ordered Diet**

**by Surplus Imagination**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter, Dudley Dursley and the other characters of the Harry Potter Universe belong to J.K. Rowlings. This writing is for pleasure only, no profit is intended. **

_A/N This is based on a Reuters news story from Rome on 5/31/05. An Italian judge ordered an overweight teenage 'bully' to slim down as a part of punishment for vandalism, slander and disturbing the peace. The judge decided that the extra weight made the teen 'naughty'. Let's see how this situation can affect Harry Potter and Dudley Dursley._

_Summer Following Harry's Fifth Year_

Little Whinging, Surrey was experiencing another hot holiday season. Rather than a drought, copious rains drenched the inhabitants each afternoon, providing excellent moisture for all green growing things. The extra rain also cooled the temperatures in the evenings, making it pleasant to stroll during the starlit hours. The residents of Little Whinging proclaimed this the best summer ever, even as they stepped up efforts to tidy burgeoning gardens and trim flourishing lawns.

Everyone was happy with their holiday in Little Whinging except one person at Number Four, Privet Drive. This single unhappy person spent most of each day doing what any normal teenage wizard would do living in a muggle household. He pulled weeds, trimmed hedges and mowed the lawn, all without magic. To say he didn't enjoy such endeavors would be putting things mildly. He hated it.

It didn't help that this unhappy, teenage wizard was also grieving from loss and self-imposed guilt. His last month at school had been most particularly terrible, resulting in the injury of his closest friends, the death of his beloved godfather and the devastation of his confidence and self-esteem. This teenage wizard, Harry Potter, was not coping well.

Each day of the two weeks since Harry left King's Cross Station was exactly the same. He would rise from a shabby bed still tired from a restless night. He would start cooking the Dursley's breakfast; eggs, sausage, bacon and tomatoes, all fried. About half way through, his Aunt Petunia was take over declaring that he always fried the eggs too hard. Harry would then retrieve the morning muggle newspaper for his Uncle Vernon, which he would exchange for a daily chore list. Harry would then sit at the table and push food around on his plate, while his cousin Dudley devoured anything not nailed down. Then, he was spend most of the day working in the yard.

Like the ebb and flow of the tides, Dudley Dursley's weight seemed to rise and fall in cyclical cycles. Two years ago he was the size and weight of a baby killer whale. Last year, as the Junior Heavyweight Inter-School Boxing Champion of the Southeast, Dudley's weight went down as his muscle content went up. This year his flab was at an all time high. Dudley had been thrown off the boxing team shortly before midterm exams. He had been caught beating up a smaller classmate for refusing to cheat for Dudley's exams.

Regardless of how Uncle Vernon railed at the professors, appealed to the Headmaster or donated large sums of cash to Smelting's boxing program, Dudley was suspended from the team for the remainder of that year. Subsequently, Little Diddydums rapidly became Big Diddylargebum as food replaced exercise. Dudley was now wider than he was tall.

And twice as mean.

Harry had always given Dudley a wide berth. One of the major terrors of his childhood, Harry learned extensive evasion tactics from an early age to keep away from his heavy handed cousin. He learned to run faster, leap higher (amazingly up to the school rooftops), dodge meaty fists and generally outsmart his own personal bully. Now, Harry wasn't the least afraid of Dudley, but still avoided him on general principle. Being around Dudley usually meant trouble and Harry was the only one in the Dursley household allowed to take the blame for anything.

This summer was different for the youngest Dursley. Instead of concentrating haphazard energy on smacking around younger kids and breaking playground equipment, Dudley would roam the neighborhood with his two cronies, Piers and Gordon, reeking serious damage. Harry had heard from Mrs. Figg, that Big D had perpetrated everything from graffiti on the local high school to smashing car windows. It was only a matter of time until he would be caught, she claimed.

Honestly, Harry didn't care. He spent his days completing a steady stream of chores oblivious of Dudley's neighborhood traumas. Most of these chores were yard work. Aunt Petunia wanted to win 'Best Garden' of Little Whinging for the third year running. Harry was put in charge of making that happen. The work was back breaking, but it kept his mind off the distressing memories of fifth year. The hated repetition of weeding, trimming and mowing blurred the edges of his grief and guilt. At odd moments, Harry would realize with stunning clarity, the beauty he was creating and would even feel a moment of satisfied peace. The yard of Number Four, Privet Drive became Harry's sole summer focus, even if it was a hated one. Under Harry's continual labor, it became the gorgeous centerpiece of the neighborhood.

It was one normal morning after the breakfast dishes were cleared, that Harry was mowing the front lawn for the tenth time in nearly as many days. Uncle Vernon demanded that each blade of grass be perfectly even. He would even check in the evenings using a hand ruler and plum line. Harry was always torn between collapsing in laughter watching his rotund uncle crawl about the lawn inspecting it's uniform height and restraining himself from administering a longed after sharp kick to Vernon's wide rear end. So far, Harry had controlled himself and had done neither. Yet.

As Harry was mowing on that normal morning, a black and white police vehicle pulled smartly into the manicured drive of Number Four. A pot-bellied police officer exited the sedan, mounted the front steps purposely and rang the bell. Harry stopped and gawked, idling the mower engine. He could see Dudley firmly incarcerated in the locked back seat of the police cruiser.

Aunt Petunia came to the front door, eyes wide. She spoke briefly with the police officer. Harry could see her try to muster a smile or two while looking frantically around to see if the neighbor's were watching. The officer continued gesturing several times at Dudley in the car. Harry turned off the mower to better hear the exchange. Aunt Petunia shook her head repeatedly and was finally heard to shriek "Dudley's a good boy! He wouldn't hurt a fly! You are plainly wrong, Officer Dunkirk! My solicitor will contact your superior!"

At that, the now identified Officer Dunkirk turned on his heels and marched back to the car. Harry watched as the officer got into the cruiser, threw it into reverse and then pealed, squealing from the drive. Things didn't look good for either Dudley or Aunt Petunia. Thus, did Harry's routine of the first two weeks suddenly come to an end.

The Next Day

_The snapdragons and pansies needed more wate_r Harry thought. It was really too hot for these particular flowers to do well. He considered replacing them with more heat hardy zinnias and petunias, but he had already used those varieties on the other side of the yard. Harry liked to use as many varieties of blooms as possible for visual effect. He had written Neville extensively for advice on plant care and landscaping strategies. The young wizard had responded enthusiastically and had even dropped by one afternoon to lend a hand. Luckily, the Dursleys had been out that day, sparing Harry the embarrassment of explaining their rude behavior to his Hogwart's friend.

Neville had brought several rootings of plants from his own private garden. Together, the teens planted the magical plants scattered amongst ordinary ones. Neville assured him that the muggles would overlook the magical additions. Harry was looking forward to seeing if the Fairy Lure would live up to its name. He even hoped to attract a few garden gnomes. He was rather fond of the dumpy little pests.

As Harry was carefully watering the beds, his relatives pulled up in the family car. Each member was dressed in their Sunday finest on this ordinary weekday afternoon. Harry wondered fleetingly where they had been. Then his attention was diverted by a flash of movement at the edge of the hydrangeas. Was that a pixie? A slow grin spread across Harry's face. A pixie here on Privet Drive, the idea was priceless.

A bark of anger followed by a yowl of protest broke through his ruminations. Eyes drawn to the drive, Harry watched dumbfounded, while Uncle Vernon hauled a protesting Dudley into the house by one ear. Aunt Petunia followed wearing that tight-lipped expression that Harry knew all too well. Could it be that Dudley was in trouble? Harry didn't want to miss a moment of the spectacle, so he quickly tidied up his garden implements and hurried in through the kitchen door. He removed his shoes at the last minute to avoid dirt in the kitchen and provide for a silent approach. His stealth was rewarded almost immediately.

"I can't believe your stupid antics!" Uncle Vernon roared at Dudley, who sat stoned faced at the kitchen table.

"Calm yourself, Vernon. Dudley is the victim is this...misunderstanding. Isn't that right, dear? Popkin? Tell Daddy who really did this. I know you are protecting them, my unselfish little man." Aunt Petunia appealed to her husband first and then her son. She was shifting from foot to foot while, wringing her hands. Harry had never seen her so nervous before.

Uncle Vernon snorted his disbelief. "You heard the magistrate, they have witnesses for not just one but seven, count them, SEVEN, criminal acts. He'll never get back on the boxing team now."

Harry kept very still and silent in the kitchen doorway. Seven criminal acts was a very small number compared to what Dudley and his gang had probably done. He continued to watch in interest. This was really getting good.

"Vernon, dear, now you don't believe all those accusations, do you? Our Dudley is such a fine, upstanding-"

Vernon interrupted, "He painted obscene words on the police station door, Petunia! On the Bobbie's own door! Have you lost your mind son?"

Dudley just sat there, unmoving. Harry wondered if he was even awake.

"Did you know that the car you broke into BELONGED TO MY BOSS?"

Harry flinched as Uncle Vernon screamed right into Dudley's ear. That had to hurt. After all, he knew from experience.

"That boy, what's his name...Evans. You broke his arm and punched out three of his teeth! The boy is only 10 years old and barely weighs seven stone, soaking wet. What were you thinking? Who taught you to act like that? You have to uphold the Dursley honor, not spit on it." Uncle Vernon started pacing around the room viciously waving his arms around. Harry wondered mildly if he would have a heart attack soon. Maybe they would put him in a hospital room next to the Evans boy.

Dudley continued to stare off into space while Petunia threw worried glances at her husband.

"I'm ashamed of you."

Dudley actually looked up at that, his face stricken.

Harry felt his world rock. Did he hear that right? Uncle Vernon ashamed of Dudley? A small part of him cheered for witnessing Dudley's just rewards. Another, larger part of him clenched in sympathy. No one, not even Dudley, should hear their father say they were ashamed of them.

Dudley shook his head and turned to his mother, "I'm hungry."

_Hungry_, thought Harry, _how can he be hungry now? Didn't he hear all that was said? Didn't it affect him at all? _

Aunt Petunia launched into action, obviously grateful to have something to do. She quickly cut a large piece of chocolate cake from a nearby plate and deftly served Dudley the slice. Harry watched, as his overlarge cousin take a huge bite. Harry also noticed that Dudley's hands were shaking.

"NO!"

Uncle Vernon snatched the empty fork from Dudley's hand and whisked the cake plate off the table. He looked about the room wildly and then focused his eyes on Harry. "You, boy, sit down and eat this cake!" He slammed the cake down before an empty seat.

"Me?" Harry was flabbergasted. Uncle Vernon wanted him to eat Dudley's cake? There had to be a catch. This was just too strange.

"Sit. And. Eat. This. CAKE!" he roared.

Harry looked questioningly at Aunt Petunia. She was nodding her head frantically in tiny movements. She handed him a clean fork. Harry sat down and confronted the cake. His stomach gave a little lurch. He hadn't eaten much since returning to Little Whinging . Harry glanced back up. Dudley's face had lost that emotionless expression and was now sitting shocked, mouth hanging open. It might make him sick, but Harry would gladly eat a plate of dragon's dung if it would spite his porky cousin. Well, maybe not dung. It was good that this was Dudley's coveted cake.

"Eat boy!"

Flinching, Harry dug into a small piece of cake. It was really good, sweet and darkly rich. Aunt Petunia always was a good cook. Instead of rebelling, his stomach seemed to settle a tad. Harry realized that he had been starving. He crammed more cake into his mouth.

"Vernon! You are being cruel. Here Dudley, I'll get you another piece of cake all your own," Aunt Petunia spoke in a singsong voice, while petting Dudley's head.

"Do you want him to go to jail, Petunia? Do you want a convict for a son? You heard the magistrate, he has to lose two stone by the end of August," Vernon frothed.

"That was just a suggestion, dear. You know, along with those other little things. Merely a suggestion." Aunt Petunia sounded hopeful, as if she didn't really believe her own words. Harry finished his slice of cake and now wished intently for a cold glass of milk to wash it down. Chocolate cake and milk went together so well, just like treacle tarts and pumpkin juice.

"That was no bloody suggestion! Dudley has to volunteer 15 hours at the Royal Humane Society, attend summer classes to improve his failing scores and lose TWO stones of weight all before the end of August! DO YOU UNDERSTAND PETUNIA?"

Uncle Vernon's face turned an interesting shade of purple, just like violets. Maybe Harry should plant violets under the shade tree in the back. The pixies might like that.

"Just because he shaved the hair off those dreadful cats..." Aunt Petunia trailed off leaving the thought unfinished. Harry hoped she wasn't referring to Mrs. Fig's cats. It wouldn't be fair to the old lady, or to her cats. Harry tried to imagine Mr. Tibbles without any hair.

Uncle Vernon didn't reply. He turned to his son, who was now paying close attention to the conversation. Harry watched Dudley swallow convulsively in fear. Uncle Vernon could get scary when he was mad. Dudley had never been the object of his scorn before.

"You are on a diet as of this moment. No more sweets. No more snacks. No more fatty foods. You will go tomorrow to that animal shelter and volunteer your services. You will do what ever they say without complain. You will then come home, exercise appropriately and spend the rest of the evening studying for those make up exams. Do you understand young man?" Overlarge hands beat the table, the clap staccato to each punishment item.

"But Dad, Pier and I were going to London tomorrow!" Dudley whined.

"NOT ANYMORE!"

"I won't do it. You can't make me," Dudley barked, finally recovering his voice. He sounded more confident that he looked. "You can't watch me all day. I'll run away!"

Harry snorted. He could just imagine Dudley out on the streets all alone. He wouldn't last an hour before needing someone to wipe his nose for him.

"You're right Dudley. I can't watch you all day. But he can!" Uncle Vernon thrust his thumb in Harry's direction.

"Me! I can't Uncle Vernon. I have the yard to take care of - Best Garden and all that," Harry cried out in panic. He appealed to his aunt, "Don't you want to win the contest?" Aunt Petunia was strangely silent.

"You can do both," Vernon declared looking satisfied. "You will make sure that Dudley meets the terms of his probation and win that contest. You will do both or you don't get your books to do your summer homework"

"You can't do that! I have to complete my assignments. Especially potions, I can't get into potions without my essays done!" Harry cried out. He was immediately sorry. He shouldn't have mentioned potions. Uncle Vernon couldn't tolerate the mention of anything magic.

For once his uncle let the forbidden mention pass. "Its decided. You will get one book back for every five pounds that Dudley loses. And I get to decide which book!" Uncle Vernon smirked, puffing up his chest.

"Five pounds? That will take too long. How about every two pounds?" Harry couldn't believe he was bargaining to do homework.

"Four pounds and you have to tutor him for those exams."

"I'll need money for expenses. Make it three pounds and we have a deal."

"Done!"

Harry slumped into his chair. What did he just get himself into?

_I hope you enjoyed this. Please review!_


	2. Diet Honeymoon

**Court Ordered Diet**

**by Surplus Imagination**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter, Dudley Dursley and the other characters of the Harry Potter Universe belong to J.K. Rowlings. This writing is for pleasure only, no profit is intended. **

_A/N This is based on a Reuters news story from Rome on 5/31/05. An Italian judge ordered an overweight teenage 'bully' to slim down as a part of punishment for vandalism, slander and disturbing the peace. The judge decided that the extra weight made the teen 'naughty'. Let's see how this situation can affect Harry Potter and Dudley Dursley._

_Diet Honeymoon_

Harry woke to the sounds of Hedwig flying into his room. The predawn gloom oozed into every corner of the small, shabby space from the open window. Harry groaned as he turned over wanting to doze a few more minutes. He had slept nightmare free for the first time since the disaster in the Department of Mysteries. He wasn't ready to give up the rare peaceful slumber.

Yesterday had been strange. After the kitchen declaration, Aunt Petunia had escaped with Dudley to shop for exercise clothes and equipment. They were gone the entire afternoon and hadn't posed Harry any problem. Uncle Vernon, however, spent the rest of the day following Harry around barking orders and hounding him with questions.

Under his Vernon's watchful eye, Harry emptied the kitchen pantry of all fattening foods, cleared out a huge space in the garage for weight equipment and fielded a thousand questions about his weight loss plans. Of course, Harry hadn't a clue on how to get Dudley to lose two stone. That was 28 pounds, wasn't it? Harry hedged his answers in vague Quidditch terms that showed that his uncle wasn't really paying attention to the responses. Either that, or Vernon was as clueless as Harry on these issues but didn't want that ignorance to show.

Frustrated at his own lack of knowledge, Harry decided that he needed expert help. He wrote to Hermione.

_Dear Hermione,_

_I hope you are enjoying your summer. I have a strange request. Can you tell me how to lose weight? I've been put in charge of Dudley losing two stone before the end of August. Uncle Vernon is holding my school books hostage in exchange for the weight loss. The whole thing is a long story. I'll fill you in later. Can you send me an answer quickly?"_

_Thanks Loads,_

_Harry_

After a heated debate with himself, Harry had written a second letter.

_Dear Professor Snape,_

_I am sorry to bother you during the holidays. Could you please tell me if there is a potion effective for quick weight loss? If there is one, could you please send the recipe as my Uncle has confiscated my truck with the books inside. _

_Respectfully,_

_Harry Potter_

Aunt Petunia and Dudley came home with the car groaning with exercise aids. Harry was certainly groaning from the effort to unload everything and organize the free weights in the garage. That night, dinner was a simple salad with low fat dressing. Judging from the chocolate stains on Dudley's shirt, his cousin had started his diet with a last binge before coming home. It must have been a satisfying indulgence because he didn't complain at the leafy dinner.

Hedwig stood on his pillow pulling out single strands of hair until Harry finally relieved her of the attached letters. Harry supposed that he might as well get all the way up. He could check his garden for magical creatures in the breaking dawn while reading his responses.

Harry pulled on the best of Dudley's old, ragged jeans. The knees were so holey that the pant legs were held together by a only few threads. Harry looked at his knobby knees poking through the holes. These pants were embarrassing, his knees only slightly less so. With one swift motion he ripped off the lower part of one pant leg. That felt good! He repeated the movement with the other leg. It would be cooler this way and would surely annoy his uncle, which was an added benefit. After all, Aunt Petunia hadn't bought_ him_ any new exercise clothes, so he'd just claim he had to make some.

Outside, the air was heavy with dew and chilly enough to draw a shiver from partly bared legs. The flower beds were stunningly beautiful even with most of the blooms closed in the dim light. Harry sat on the back step and stared intently at the Fairy Lure. No, there was no movement but over by the garage there was definitely a pair of pixies. Maybe they'd get into the kitchen and mess with his Aunt Petunia! Harry grinned at the thought of pixies stealing silverware and breaking glasses.

The sky grew lighter as the sun made an appearance. Harry turned his attention to the letters. Hermione's was very thick, no surprise there.

_Dear Harry,_

_My summer is going very well, thank you for asking. Next week my parents are taking me on an expedition to Australia for the rest of the summer. I've been reading up on the Aborigines and their tribal magic. It's fascinating! _

_I've enclosed information on dieting as you requested. As you can see there are many popular diets: Atkins, Weight Watchers, the cabbage diet, the banana diet, Slim Fast..._

Hermione's letter went on listing fad diets for three more paragraphs. Harry had no idea there was so many kinds! Some of the diets were named after famous people.Just who was Dolly Parton anyway? Harry didn't know but she sure must love watermelon because that's all you ate. Others he just couldn't pronounce or understand. Was 'high colonic' a food or a procedure?. Each of the diets had a full page explaining the particulars in the following sheets. Hermione must have stayed up half the night preparing this for him. Harry was touched at the thoughtfulness and more than a little disgusted that he's have to read it all.

The letter closed with a statement that all diets worked on the same underlying principle; the dieter had to burn more calories than they ate. In short, eat less and exercise more. There was also an admonishment that Harry should not follow any of these diet plans himself because he was much too skinny already. If he got any thinner, Hermione threatened to pin up the baggy parts in the seat of his trousers! Harry wasn't sure what bothered him the most, Hermione's threat or the fact that she had been staring at his bum.

The last page was a clipping of Dudley's trial from the London Times. Harry read in fascination of Dudley's crimes, the trial itself and the subsequent judgement. Trust Hermione to figure out why Harry needed this information on her own. In the article, Dudley was portrayed as a hardened hooligan terrorizing the local children. It was easy to see that Dudley's case was going to attract a lot of attention. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were going to be mortified at the bad press. Harry took a moment to bask in the heady thoughts of his relative's embarrassment.

Time for the second letter. It was from Professor Snape, of course.

_Mr. Potter,_

_If your uncle has confiscated your trunk, how do you propose to brew a weight loss potion? Assuming you manage to reclaim your possessions, this recipe should prove efficacious. Pay close attention to the dosing instructions or you may find yourself intestinally indisposed for the remainder of the summer, although that would be amusing. In the event that this potion is not for your scrawny frame, you should be aware that it changes in potency when used on muggles. Now go and do your summer homework, not that I'm planning of letting you into my class._

_SS_

Everyone, it seemed, had a comment about his body. At least Snape wasn't looking at his bum. Harry read through the recipe noting that he should have all required ingredients. The brew only took a few hours to complete. If Harry could get his trunk out of the cupboard, he could have the potion completed by dinner time tomorrow. The only questions were how to get Uncle Vernon to agree to a magical potion and how to get Dudley to drink it.

Breakfast was a tense affair. Harry fried eggs, bacon, sausages and tomatoes for Uncle Vernon who ate them while teasing Dudley with the greasy bites. He poured bran cereal with skim milk for Dudley who sulked at his father's teasing. He toasted scones with jam for Aunt Petunia who moaned the lack of harmony in her household. And Harry ate what ever was left over while grumbling at being forced into the job of short order cook. Yesterday's cake had awakened Harry's appetite. He couldn't seem to get enough food. He hoped that his uncle would leave some of the bacon. Luck didn't seem to be on his side that day.

The bacon completely consumed, Uncle Vernon beat a hasty exit for the office. Aunt Petunia headed for her garden club meeting thankful to escape the house. That left Harry and Dudley staring at each other. No doubt they were both wishing for bacon while giving each other the evil eye.

After five minutes or so, Dudley broke the silence. "So what's the plan, freak?"

"I think you need to be nicer to me than that. I'm in charge of your potential freedom after all." Harry smirked. This was pretty fun.

"Sod off!"

"Tisk tisk, Remember that I get to decide what you eat the rest of the summer. Try again."

Dudley's face grew bright purple. It was easy to see the resemblance to Uncle Vernon as one vein throbbed on his cousin's forehead. Purple, huh? He's have to get those violets into the ground before the afternoon rain.

"I'm going to pound you into pulp, Potter. You are going to beg for mercy." Dudley shook a fat fist inches from Harry's nose.

"That's Warden Potter to you, Dud. Pound me and you'll break your house arrest!" Harry fired back.

Dudley dropped his clenched hand, startled. "How do you know that? You weren't at court yesterday."

Harry whipped out the newspaper clipping. "Have you seen the write up on your trial, Dudley? Made the national news! It's all there, what you did _and_ the terms for your house arrest. I know all about it. Everybody knows, well everybody who can read. At least that leaves your _friends_ in the dark."

Dudley just scowled. He snatched the clipping and read it with tightly squinted eyes. As he finished Dudley seemed to deflate. With a thud he laid his meaty head down on the table, the clipping fluttered to the floor. "I'm doomed."

"Not as doomed as you will be if you don't change your ways." Harry felt anger building behind his scorn. "Do you have any idea just how much damage you did to that little Evans boy?"

"I have an idea." came the whispered reply.

Harry was shocked. Was Dudley...sorry? Nah, it couldn't be.

"Then answer me one question. Really answer it. Why?" Harry asked in a tight voice.

"Dunno, because I can I guess." Dudley looked Harry right in the eye. "Could. I mean could. I won't do that anymore." Unhealthy fat crowded his eyelids nearly shut. "Are you gonna help me beat this thing? You have a deal with my dad."

"Yeah, I made a deal with him. Now I need a deal with you." Harry offered, an idea forming in his head.

"I'll help you with your diet." Harry stated, "I'll be your exercise coach. Heck, I'll even tutor you for those exams. But in return I want you to make it up to those people you hurt. What ever it takes. Every last one."

"You're crazy!"

"Crazy or no, those are my terms. You will fix this mess you got yourself into or I will turn my back on you. You have an opportunity to make amends and get a fresh start. Not everyone is so lucky." Harry emphasized his words by physically turning away from Dudley. He had another reason to turn away, his emotions were getting the better of him. Unlike his delinquent cousin, Harry knew that there was no redemption for what he had done to Sirius.

"You won't get your books back." came the sly reply.

Harry spun and attacked, "Do you think it will matter that I don't get into Potions to that little boy?" Harry was dismayed at how good it felt to rub all this into Dudley's face. It would be so easy to forget his own crimes by harping on Dudley's. Maybe that's why Snape was so critical in the classroom, he was hiding from his self-recrimination.

Dudley was clearly without words. He half shrugged and half nodded his head, confused.

"You _will_ fix things and you _will_ thank me by the end!" Harry spat. "Now, read these diets and pick one. You don't have all day!" Harry threw Hermione's diet summaries at Dudley and stalked from the room. He hadn't meant to say all that. He didn't want to think about these things either. This was about Dudley, not his own failings. Harry paced about the room ranting silently at himself. Bad memories flooded his senses and he feelings rubbed themself raw. Harry longed for the simplicity of his garden. He was sure the front beds needed weeding. It was important to maintain clean flower beds!

On the thirteen's lap around the livingroom Dudley called from the kitchen "Picked one."

The 'one' happened to be the Atkins diet. Harry wondered if Dudley had picked it because it was first on the list and saved him from reading the rest of the choices. No matter, Atkins it was, the no carbohydrate diet. Lovely.

Harry then sent Dudley off to his room to retrieve the exam requirements. A tutoring schedule would have to be designed for this evening. In the meantime, Harry boiled two eggs for Dudley to take with him for lunch along with a piece of cheese. At least this diet was easy to follow, all meat and fat.

Brown bag in hand, Harry ushered Dudley out the door with instructions on how to catch the bus to the Royal Humane Society. Then Harry rushed to call the named place informing them of Dudley's desire to volunteer. Unfortunately, the director there had also read the London Times article and had to be talked into accepting the help. The director eventually agreed to allow Dudley to clean cages from eleven until two-thirty with a break for lunch. He also promised to make sure Dudley got on the bus home.

After a quick weeding of the front flower beds, Harry ran to the market to shop for an all meat dinner. Then he ran back home to mow, water the lawn and plant those violets. At three o'clock he ran to meet the bus to make sure Dudley got off at the correct stop. One day into this deal and Harry was sick of the whole thing. They hadn't even gotten to the exercise part and Harry estimated he had already run ten kilometers. He was extremely tired, vastly hungry and not at all pleasant in the aroma department.

Dudley, on the other hand, was brimming with enthusiasm. He loved working at the shelter. Dudley talked extensively about how cute the kittens and puppies were and how he had been entrusted with a very important position. Harry bit back a snide comment that cleaning cages would certainly be useful on future job resumes.

Dudley didn't even complain when Harry took him on a five kilometer walk around the neighborhood instead of heading home to rest after his 'long day'. He chatted happily the entire distance treating Harry like an old friend. Harry pretty much ignored his chatter, his mind entrenched on the tiny pond he wanted to install in the backyard. He had read that fairies liked water.

Five official kilometers completed, a truly foul smelling Harry led this strange, new happy Dudley into the garage to work out with weights. Dudley assured him that he was quite versed in what to do. Dudley would do his strength routine from Smeltings while Harry went inside to clean his sweaty body up and rustle up a light snack.

A cold shower and a change of fresh clothes made a world of difference. Harry inhaled two massive sandwiches and a glass of cold tea while preparing Dudley's snack of two ounces of rolled ham and one teaspoon of peanut butter. Finally fed and feeling much better, Harry grabbed the snack tray and headed out to the garage.

Expecting the clang of weights and the odor of a sweaty body, Harry was totally unprepared to see Dudley sitting on the weight bench cuddling a tiny black and white kitten.

"What do you have there, Dud? Is it a stray?" Harry was irritated to see that Dudley was far from sweaty.

"Like it? I thought about what you said, you know, about making it up to all those people. I brought this little guy home for that lady with the cats." The tiny feline swatted at Dudley's wagging fingers with kitten sized pounces.

"You brought him home with you?" Harry wracked his brain trying to remember seeing the kitten on their walk. How could he miss such a thing? Then again, Harry couldn't remember most of what Dudley had talked about, his mind had been on the garden.

"I had him inside my shirt. Can't take pets on the bus you know." The kitten seized Dudley's hand bitting furiously. "Ouch! He has really sharp teeth. Anyway, the shelter was gonna gas him today if no one took him home. So here he is. Did I do good?" Dudley turned watery blue eyes his direction looking for approval. Harry nodded trying to wrap his thoughts around the fact that Dudley had kept a kitten in his shirt all this time unnoticed. Then again, Dudley's shirt was massive. You could probably hide a full grown cat in there with none the wiser.

"Yeah, I think she'll like him. Good job Dudley. That's a good start." Harry took the kitten out of Dudley's thick paws. "We'll take him over _after_ you do your routine." Dudley sighed but got to work while Harry played with the cat and thought about adding cattails to the pond.

Mrs. Figg was delighted with her new addition. She named the little kitten Domino after his black and white pattern. She even forgave Dudley after he stumbled through an apology. Harry was starting to feel good about his involvement.

For dinner, Harry was too tired to do more than wave a steak under the broiler and throw together a salad. He warmed bread for Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia but abstained himself to show support for Dudley's diet. His new charge, amazingly, didn't complain about three ounces of steak and salad without dressing for dinner. He also didn't ask for any bread or desert maintaining that the meal was plenty and very satisfying. He even completed the lesson plan set out by Harry afterwards. Dudley was acting like a new man. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia just stared, afraid to break the spell of Dudley's contentment with any verbal comment.

Hermione's letter had explained that dieting could be like a marriage. The dieter would have a initial period of intense infatuation. If things went well, the routine would become familiar leveling into wedded bless. If things didn't go well, then the diet usually ended in violent divorce. If that happened, she explained, Harry would have to try a different diet and start the whole process again.

Things were going so well that Harry might not have to risk Snape's weight loss potion. Dudley was definitely on his diet honeymoon. Maybe this would all work out.

_A/N Thanks everyone for the great reviews! Chapter 3 The Potion, coming soon!_


	3. The Potion

**Court Ordered Diet**

**by Surplus Imagination**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter, Dudley Dursley and the other characters of the Harry Potter Universe belong to J.K. Rowlings. This writing is for pleasure only, no profit is intended. **

_A/N Thanks for all the support! A special thanks to PenelopeAntwerp for the idea that changed the ending of this chapter. _

_The Potion_

The second day on the Atkins diet went better than the first. The third day was near about perfect. The diet was followed to the letter, well, Hermione's letter. Dudley earned another three hours of volunteer work each day. He walked six kilometers instead of five and kept up his weight lifting routine. Enthusiastic, he completed not only the nightly lesson plans but did extra geography without being asked.

Harry was exhausted but content. It felt great to see Dudley get on track so easily. Being a coach, mentor, warden... whatever, was a lot of work, but he didn't really mind. Between the effort of keeping his cousin moving from task to task and the attention required for a winning class of garden, Harry didn't have a spare minute to waste on troubled thoughts. His sleeping was never better, practically nightmare-free. Hermione would have pointed out that avoided feelings would resurface if not confronted. Harry was relieved she wasn't around to force him to acknowledge just that. Things were running smooth, well, most of the time.

The only hitch to success were the shelter pets. Dudley's oversized shirt was working overtime smuggling small animals on the bus home. The second day, Dudley bought home a kitten for himself, a feisty calico. Aunt Petunia detested cats and demanded that Dudley take the 'nasty little thing' right back where he found it in the shrillest voice Harry had ever heard. Dudley refused protesting that the kitty would be gassed if returned to the Royal Humane Society. Harry appealed to Mrs. Figg who didn't want another cat. After some quick bargaining, the elderly woman took the second kitten in exchange for Harry reworking her flower beds in decorative cabbages and larks spur. Harry promised to have them done within the next week.

On the third day Dudley brought home a beagle pup. The big eyed canine frisked about the living room charming everyone with his clumsy puppy ways. Harry thought that Aunt Petunia might actually allow Dudley to keep this little guy until the beagle piddled in the middle of Petunia's light-colored carpet. He had to go, preferably before he had to do more than 'leak'.

Harry did some quick thinking and rushed a note off to Neville. With his fingers crossed he wrote:

_Dear Neville,_

_How are you doing? I hope you didn't get into too much trouble with your Gran for sneaking here on the Knight Bus. The yard looks great! So far I've seen pixies in the back but no fairies or gnomes. _

_I would like to thank you for all your efforts by giving you a puppy, an adorable beagle male. He would be good company for your Gran during the school year too. As much as I would have liked to surprise you with the gift, I thought it would be better if I checked with you first. Would you accept the beagle puppy as a thank you? _

_Please send your reply immediately, as I have to act now to secure the pup._

_Your friend,_

_Harry_

"That's a lie," Dudley's voice came just behind his ear. The oaf was reading over his shoulder the entire time while cradling the puppy in his arms. The little beagle was half asleep and yawning. "What are pixies?"

Harry turned around to glare. "It's not necessarily a lie. I do want to thank him. I might have thought of something like this." He ignored the pixie question. "It's rude to read other people's mail."

Dudley snorted. "Liar liar liar ...," he taunted. The puppy stirred sleepily and starting licking Dudley's neck.

"Don't you have weight training to do?" Harry growled out between clenched teeth. The truth of Dudley's words stung.

Demanding an unprecedented bribe of four owl treats, Hedwig launched off to Neville's house with strict instructions to wait for a reply. In the meantime, Harry babysat the puppy while he supervised Dudley's exercise and study sessions. He was so irritable that Dudley started saluting with a 'Yes, Warden Potter, sir!' with every order. By dusk the reply had come. Neville would be honored to accept the gift. He agreed that the pup would be good company for his Gran. Neville, it seemed, had always wanted a dog.

_All's well that ends well, right? _Harry breathed a sigh of relief and tried to stifle the stab of guilt as he convinced the order member on 'minding duty' to deliver the beagle that night. Harry then spent the remainder of the evening digging a hole in the backyard for the pond. The act of shoveling dirt cleared his mind better than occlumency practice. He didn't want to think too much about his letter to Neville.

On the morning of the fourth day Dudley weighed in. He was four pounds down and Harry was one book up with a pound credit to the next one. Uncle Vernon was so pleased that he even allowed Harry his coveted Potions text and agreed to purchase a water pump for a fountain in the backyard pond.

That same day Dudley brought home a Irish Setter-Golden Retriever mixed puppy. He also began to grumble about the quantities and types of food he was allowed. _He_ was tired of eating just meat and cheese. Couldn't he just have a potato? It was a vegetable after all. Harry launched into a lecture on what foods fulfilled the Atkins diet while he tried to figure out what to do with the retriever pup before Aunt Petunia came home. She had not reacted well earlier to finding animal hair on the inside of Dudley's shirts. Harry didn't want to listen to that diatribe again. Ever. She was expected within the half-hour.

In desperation, Harry he wrote out a tag claiming that the 'soft, golden red color of the puppy had reminded him of her hair'. He attached the tag to the pup with a wide yellow ribbon nicked from craft box. He carefully packed the dog into a covered basket and sent it with Mundungus Fletcher to Ginny Weasley as a gift. All girls like puppies, didn't they? This dog's cuddly nature would certainly appeal to his friend while the open spaces of the Burrow would provide an excellent area to raise a large dog. Harry hoped that Mrs. Weasley had a soft spot for puppies too. He didn't fancy a Howler in return.

Harry warned Dudley that he had better not bring home anymore animals. That last delivery cost him five galleons to bribe Mundungus. Harry was getting tired of fixing his cousin's problems.

That night, Dudley staged open rebellion by foregoing his studies to watch a movie with his Dad. Harry watched powerless as Dudley ate popcorn on the couch with his beaming father. That night Harry frantically completed his Potion's essay. He wasn't sure how the next day would go but knew who would shoulder any blame.

Sure enough, the next morning Harry found Dudley asleep on the living room couch surrounded by crisp packets and biscuit crumbs. Cans of soda cluttered the side tables. Dudley had binged and binged well last night.

Uncle Vernon had a lot to say on the matter. He ruthlessly ripped the Potion's text from Harry's clutching hand while casting crippling phrases of blame. "You stupid boy! I put you in charge of Dudley. Look at him! This is your fault," Vernon yelled his mustache bristling. "I should have know better than to trust you."

Harry knew that Dudley's binge wasn't his fault. The words still hurt enough to make him frantically scramble for distraction. The pond, he would finish installing the pond today. Vernon stomped from the room with a parting shot, "You'd better get this mess cleared up or there will be hell to pay!"

_At least it is a Saturday,_ Harry reflected looking at his sleeping cousin in disgust. There was no work at the shelter to worry about. Dudley had only Monday left to complete his 15 hours required. The object of Harry's contemplation gave a little grunt and hefted his bulk onto one side. Snarling, Harry grabbed a handful of shirt and pants and tried to pull his cousin off the couch. Dudley barely shifted at all.

Breathing hard from both effort and frustration, Harry shifted from pulling to pushing. Punctuating his words with downward shoves, Harry bounced his cousin into wakefulness. "Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!" The couch springs groaned from the strain. Dudley stirred sleepily.

"Get up you prat!" Harry added a back and forward rocking to his measured bounce. His arms were starting to ache from the motion.

"Stop! I'm gonna be sick," Dudley groaned long and mournful. The heavier boy did indeed look ghastly green. "What happened?"

"You just blew four day's diet, that's what happened," Harry spat as he finally let go. "I hope you liked losing those four pounds because you're going to have to do it all over again!"

Dudley struggled to sit up. A half eaten bag of pretzels crunched noisily under one ponderous thigh. "I was just celebrating. I didn't eat that much. I deserve a celebration after all my hard work," he said.

"_Your_ hard work. _You_ didn't eat much. _You_ were just celebrating." Harry kicked a empty can right at Dudley's shin. "It's time you stop thinking about 'you' and starting fixing the mess you are in."

Dudley rubbed his shin moodily. "I have been fixing things. The Cat Lady is happy, right?"

"Mrs. Figg, Dudley, her name is Mrs. Figg. She's only been your neighbor your whole life," Harry sneered. "Yeah, you fixed things so I have a whole day of yard work at her house to get her to take that second kitten. Thanks loads!"

"I thought you liked to work outside. You do it all the time." Dudley tried to stand but stopped to pick at pretzel bits stuck to his arm.

Harry just stared. How could he explain why he did so many chores to his clueless cousin? Dudley wouldn't be able to comprehend the dynamics of his life. Harry wasn't sure he could explain if he tried.

"You do this again and I'm done with you," Harry said quietly. Dudley looked up surprised. Harry turned and walked away saying, "and get this mess cleared up or there will be hell to pay!"

The rest of the morning was spent laying the pond bottom. A layer of contoured sand formed the foundation followed by heavy, flexible plastic. Uncertain if the pond would ever have a fountain, Harry built in an intake tube fashioned from leftover piping just in case. The plastic at the edges of the pool was weighted down by heavy stones and covered with dirt creating an irregular circle. While he worked, the sun beat unrelentingly hot on his bare back.

"You're getting very red," Dudley's voice drawled not two inches from his bowed head.

Jumping at the sudden voice, Harry raised up from his bent position and sat back on his knees. Dudley was sitting on an overturned bucket drinking a glass of something dark and full of ice. Reaching forward, Harry rudely snatched the glass from Dudley's hands and drank the liquid down.

"Hey, that's mine! It's Diet Coke, you know," Dudley whined but didn't try to retake the glass.

"Like I care. It's better than many things I've had to drink." Harry shook the ice trying for the last bit of moisture. "Thank you for the drink."

"Don't thank me, I didn't have a choice, you thief." Taking the glass back, Dudley refilled it from the rest of a silver can sitting beside the bucket. After a moment's hesitation, he handed the drink back. "You look thirsty. Can't have the 'Warden' passing out from too much sun. Here."

Surprised, Harry took the drink and saluted his cousin as he downed the rest. He had been parched. The last dregs consumed, he fished out a large ice cube to suck.

"You don't need to drink diet stuff. Look at you, I can count every rib. How do you stay so thin?" Dudley was eyeing Harry critically.

"I'm a growing boy, my mouth can't keep up with my body." Harry wiped the sweat from his face on his discarded shirt. He bent over to finish the drain.

"Who is Ginny? Your girlfriend?" Harry heard Dudley crack open another soda can. No wonder he didn't mind about the first one.

"Nah, she's just a friend. Why do you ask?"

"Not anymore. Listen to this," Dudley cleared his throat and continued in a falsetto voice. "_Dear Harry, How wonderful of you to send me such a gift. I named him Seeker after you. When you come to the Burrow we can take him on long walks together_," Dudley paused snickering. "_How did you know that yellow is my favorite color? It's also the symbol for affection and fidelity, you know._"

"What?" Harry froze mid-dig in fear. "Are you making this up?"

"Hardly, I'm reading the letter than little owl brought," Dudley snorted. "_I'll wear the ribbon in my hair the next time we meet_. What did you do to her? Send her a love letter?" Harry looked up to see Dudley waving a piece of paper, _his letter_, around in the air.

"You're reading my mail?" Harry was incredulous.

"Right in one, Potter," Dudley grinned as he smelled the parchment. "Do I smell...lilacs?"

"Give me that!" Harry lurched out of the hole lunging for the letter. Dudley tried to keep it away but he wasn't fast enough. Harry read the letter silently. Dudley's rendition had been accurate. "This has to be some kind of a joke. Ginny would never write this."

"What did you do, Romeo? What's with the yellow ribbon?" Dudley chugged the last of his diet soda loudly crumpling the can. "I like yellow too. Maybe you should plant some daffodils back here."

"I sent Ginny the retriever puppy with a yellow ribbon around his neck. It was all I could find to secure the tag. And daffodils grow better in the spring." Did Dudley just make a garden suggestion? It was too hot for daffodils but he could plant yellow daisies or even a golden iris. Harry was torn between the ominous letter and the escape of the flower beds.

Dudley made the choice for him. "Let me get this straight. You sent this Ginny girl a cute, cuddly puppy as a gift after tying a nice yellow ribbon around his neck? What did the tag say?"

"Only that his fur reminded me of her hair," Harry trailed off with growing realization. He _had_ send her something of a love letter. _Oh no!_

"And here I thought I was the stupid one! She thinks you've just declared your intentions. Oh ho, this is too funny," Dudley crowed followed by making kissing noises.

"Sod off, you prat!" Harry read the letter again but the words hadn't changed. Either this was a prank from Ron or Ginny did think he had 'declared his intentions'.

"Make me you puny wimp! What's the problem anyway? Is she real ugly or something?" Dudley heaved his bulk up off the bucket.

"No, she's lovely," Harry said quietly. The real question was, where did he go from here?

"Then count yourself lucky and go along for the ride. Are you done yet? With this nice hole you've dug, I mean." Dudley was walking in small circles trying to inspect the impression the bucket made on his rear end.

Harry sighed but got up too. "Yeah, I'm done. I need to find out if your Dad is going to buy that pump for a fountain. It will be easier to hook up before the pond is filled."

"What if I just gave you the money now. Would that make you happy?" Dudley finished his circling and swayed dizzily.

Suspicious, Harry asked, "Why would you do that? You don't care about that contest. What do you want in return?"

Dudley rolled his eyes, "What makes you think I want anything? I'm trying to be nice. Besides, it would make Mum happy to win 'Best Garden'. She's been a bit barmy lately and it would be good for her."

"I know you, Dudikins," Harry warned, the disbelief thick in his voice.

"Fine. If you must know I'm having a bit of trouble with this whole diet thing," Dudley replied. "I was hoping you could use your, uh, _special abilities _to fix things." Dudley waggled his fingers for emphasis. "You know, use your_ thingy_ to make the weight disappear."

"You know I can't use magic away from school. Even if I could, I don't think you'd like me to banish away all that fat. Think of the wound it would leave behind," Harry shuddered at the vision of Dudley bleeding from his middle.

"Well, there's got to be something that can help. This whole thing is too hard!"

Harry hated it when Dudley whined. It was like finger nails on a chalkboard. "I do have a potion recipe for weight loss, " Harry ventured reluctantly.

"Brilliant! Let's go get it." With that, Dudley started waddling back toward the house.

"Wait, " Harry called, "I have to make it, but I don't have my school stuff."

Dudley turned. "Is that all? So go get it. Hurry man!"

"You don't understand, your Dad has locked my trunk in the cupboard under the stairs. We have to convince him to let me have it. You know he'll never agree. He hates magic," Harry hedged.

"He doesn't have to know," Dudley continued on into the house.

"If he finds out I'll be the one to pay, not you!" Harry felt stupid yelling at the house while still in the backyard. Picking up the bucket and soda cans he went into the house too. Dudley was already at work picking the lock on the cupboard door.

"He won't find out," Dudley said. "He's gone to a company picnic with Mum."

"How come you didn't go?" Harry wondered.

"Because I'm now an embarrassment to the family, dip-wad. I'll get your bloody trunk. You just make that... _thingy_," Dudley made wide, unintelligible gestures with his arms.

"I'm overwhelmed with your technical knowledge, Dud. Thingy? Do you mean _potion_?" Little warning bells shot off in Harry's head. His uncle had a sixth sense for when that closet had been breeched. There was also the little matter of Snape's potion warning. His greasy haired professor gave up the answer to his question way too easily. The more Harry thought about the potion the more suspicious he felt. Snape had left something off in the warning, he was sure. Too bad Hermione was already gone to Australia, she could have researched it for him.

Harry looked around while he waited. Amazingly enough, Dudley had actually cleaned up the living room. The carpet needed sweeping but all the wrappers and cans were picked up. Harry fetched the carpet sweeper from the kitchen cupboard after drinking two glasses of water. He really _was_ parched.

It didn't take long to run the carpet sweeper over the expanse of floor. The back and forth shoulder motion made Harry very aware of the sunburn across his back. He better put his shirt back on for the rest of the day.

As Harry was replacing the sweeper back into the kitchen he heard an odd muffled noise. He checked out front, but no one was in the drive. A glance through the kitchen window showed that no one was in the backyard. He stood very still and listened again. There! It was coming from.. from.. from the hallway!

Paralyzed by the sight, Harry gaped at the entrance to the cupboard under the stairs. Dudley had gotten on all fours to crawl into the small space but hadn't been able to back out again. His tubby cousin was stuck in the doorway, arse end out. Harry started to laugh. This was too much!

More muffled yells ensued followed by frantic butt wiggles. Chunky knees scrabbled for purchase Dudley tried to get out the space. It was no use. Dudley was well and truly stuck.

Snickering, Harry walked up to the doorway and listened. He heard faint but clearly, "You get me out of here, NOW!" Dudley knew he was back there.

Harry yelled back "Brilliant idea, Dud! We'll just leave you stuck there until you lose enough weight to get out on your own! I'll get a camera."

The mass lodged in the cupboard frame really started to thrash, not that it was doing any good. Dudley didn't appear agreeable for a photograph either. The panicked movements worried Harry. What if he really hurt himself? Harry called out, "Relax Dudley, I don't even own a camera. Hold still and let me see if I can get you out."

The lower half of Dudley stilled except for heavy breathing. Apparently getting stuck in small places proved aerobic. Harry examined all edges of the frame using his hands to feel for gaps. Wads of Dudley bulged on both sides of the wood leaving no room for a handhold.. In fact, the only place that wasn't taken up by his cousin was a space between his knees. There was no way Harry was going to put his hand there!

"Try laying down. Maybe then you can wiggle out," Harry suggested.

One large leg extended carefully backward. With a audible grunt the other leg did likewise. Now Dudley looked like he was doing pushups but without the up and down motion. Harry pushed down hard on the only bit of back that was exposed. The only reward was a scream of anguish. The arse didn't move at all.

"Stop stop stop stop stop!"

Harry stopped perplexed. "I think we have to call for help. Would you rather I call your Dad or the Fire Department?"

"No! Don't call Dad! That would be horrible. Don't call the Fire Department either. That would get in the papers. YOU have to get me out, Harry. PLEASE!" Dudley was practically crying.

"Calm down and let me think," Harry said soothingly. He was tempted to give Dudley a comforting pat, but there were very few safe places to lay his hand.

"Harry, I have to go to the bathroom!"

"Hang on. I'm going to try pulling you. If that doesn't work I'll call Mr. Weasley. Be right back," Harry said as he got up and retrieved a large bottle of cooking oil and a few towels from the kitchen.

"This will be...wet." With that, Harry poured a good amount of oil all around the edges of the door frame, then poured some more on Dudley himself. He spread the oil everywhere it might help. Then after wiping his hands carefully on one of the towels, Harry grabbed one heavy leg while bracing against the wall. "I'm going to pull on three, ok?"

"Hurry!"

"Here we go. One. Two. Three!" At the count, Harry gripped Dudley's leg and pulled backward with all his might. When he felt Dudley budge a few millimeters, he doubled his efforts putting more push into his braced leg. Dudley screamed and then came flying out.

And landed right on top of Harry.

Luck would have it that the oil dripped to the exact spot Harry's foot resided during the extraction procedure. Slipping on the oil, Harry lost his footing and landed heavily on his back just in time to provide a soft landing for Dudley. And what a landing it was.

Harry must have blacked out for a few seconds because when he woke all was in darkness. Unable to breathe, Harry struggled to get out from under the ponderous weight killing him. He was only partially successful. Two great legs parted falling to either side of Harry head. There, in very close proximity to his chin, was the crotch of Dudley's pants_. Ewwwww!_

"Get off," Harry gasped, "can't breathe!"

Dudley moaned and stirred a bit. Horrified, Harry felt movement against his own nether regions. Seemed that Dudley had the same view Harry did. Shuddering at the absurdity of their predicament, Harry managed to get both arms up against Dudley's middle and rolled his cousin off to one side. Panting, Harry laid there breathing sweet air.

"You're going to have to get the trunk yourself. I'm not going back in there," Dudley rasped panting. "How the bloody hell did you ever manage to sleep in there? It's so small!"

"It wasn't my idea. We did used to be smaller you know." Harry wondered if little Duddykins would have fit in his cupboard even at the age of five. No, probably not. "Are you all right? You were really stuck." Harry sat up to assess the damage.

Other than oil glistening everywhere, there was no physical damage to the doorway. Dudley looked a soggy mess, but there was no blood visible. A little cleanup and no one would know. Harry watched Dudley struggle to sit up and check his sides. There was a little scraping but nothing severe.

Harry stood up slipping a little on the spilt oil. He heaved the trunk out in the hallway and removed his cauldron, brewing implements and the needed ingredients. Wiping the trunk free of oil with the towels, Harry shoved the trunk back to the same position in the cupboard. Hopefully Uncle Vernon wouldn't notice that anything was missing or moved.

His back cracking loudly as he stood, Harry picked up the potion tools. "I'd better get started with this. I'll have to use the stove top to brew, but we can cool the mixture in my room. Can you get this mess cleaned up? I won't have time. Don't forget to wipe up every spot on the door."

Dudley looked totally disgusted, "How do you get this stuff up? It's slimy!"

"Try some spray cleaner and paper towels," Harry advised. "You probably should clean yourself up first. Bring down those clothes and I'll toss them in the washer."

"Right," Dudley started to chuckle, "that was pretty funny, wasn't it?" Harry laughed all the way to the kitchen.

Dudley didn't show up in the kitchen for a couple of hours. Harry hoped that he was doing a good job. The potion on the stove needed to simmer just three more minutes. The last ingredient, ground flax seed, had to be stirred in quickly then, the whole thing needed to completely cool. The recipe stated that the potion was best taken first thing in the morning in a hot liquid like tea. Dose required daily until goal weight was achieved.

"Phew! What's that stench?" Dudley finally made an appearance.

"Your weight loss potion. Isn't it appetizing?" Harry grinned as Dudley made a face at the contents of the cauldron.

"Mum's going to have a fit at this smell," Dudley warned. "I'm starving. What can I have for lunch?"

"How about you make up a salad for both of us with that leftover chicken in the ice box?" Harry added the flax seed and stirred vigorously. The potion bubbled and turned clear. Perfect.

"How do you make salad?" Dudley was starting at the open refrigerator. "Is it hard?"

Removing the cauldron from the burner, Harry replied, "You just take out the lettuce and tear it up in bite-sized pieces. Then you cut up a cucumber, a tomato, and chicken and sprinkle them on top. You've never made a salad before?"

"I've never made anything before," Dudley ventured. "I never cleaned up the living room before this morning and I had no idea that there was such a thing as spray cleaner either."

"How are you going to take care of yourself after you move out? You're going to have to learn, Dudley," Harry said softly. He had never considered how Aunt Petunia's babying of Dudley might not prepare him for the real world.

"I never thought about that. I figured I'd always live here on Privet Drive." Dudley looked dumbfounded. It was obvious he had never considered his future. "Do you think I'll have to get a job?"

"Yes Dudley, everyone has to work," Harry said wearily.

Lunch turned out fairly good. Dudley was as proud of his chicken salad as any chef of a six course meal. Harry poured the cooling potion into an empty bottle and hid it in his room. He even got his brewing equipment back into place being careful to relock the cupboard door.

The smell in the kitchen proved more troublesome. After repeated applications of air freshener, the odor remained. Harry decided to cook marinara sauce with extra garlic for dinner to mask the smell. Dudley could eat his sauce over broccoli instead of pasta. Harry also added garlic to the chicken. The whole house fairly reeked of the stuff.

"It smells like bloody Italians live here," Uncle Vernon roared when he entered the house.

"Garlic is good for weight loss," Harry placated while serving up the meal. "It's good for your blood pressure too."

"Not so loud, dear. Do you want the neighbors to hear?" Aunt Petunia seemed calmer today. She made no comment on the smell as she filled Dudley's plate.

"No pasta, Aunt Petunia," Harry said. "Just put sauce on the broccoli and chicken both. I read about this in a magazine."

"Nonsense! Dudley needs his strength. He can't just eat chicken and broccoli." Petunia reached over to add pasta to the plate.

"No pasta Mum," Dudley said firmly. "I'm going to lose those two stones." Petunia sputtered at the comment but refrained from adding pasta to the plate.

"Good for you son," Vernon approved giving Harry a side wise glance. "Good to see you right on track."

The next morning came much too soon. All of the muscles in Harry's back were very sore. It was a good thing the pond was nearly finished. Groaning from the effort, Harry heaved himself out of bed. He dressed quickly, pocketed the potion and headed for the backyard.

It had rained last night clearing the air. Splattered raindrops combined with heavy dew dripped from bushes and trees. Harry settled down on the back step yawning, when a sudden movement caught his eye. A potato-like creature was trundling over the stones ringing the pond. It was a gnome! Harry grinned. There was another one pulling a flower bulb out by the stem! The grin faded. Harry had forgotten why Mrs. Weasley insisted on have the garden degnomed. The little creatures ate flower bulbs and plant roots. Well, he'd just have to keep planting flowers ahead of their appetites!

Noise inside the kitchen let Harry know someone was up. He rose to make breakfast and found both Uncle Vernon and Dudley sitting at the table. Neither one looked happy with the other. Harry started boiling water for the tea. The silence was oppressive.

Vernon spoke first, "Seems that Dudley here gained back one of the pounds he lost." Dudley only glowered in return. Vernon continued, "He seems to think that he's got matters under control despite that."

"Three pounds in one week is a very good result, Uncle Vernon," Harry responded.

"I expected more. He's only got nine more weeks to lose the rest," Vernon declared as if the Harry couldn't do the math.

"Yes, Uncle Vernon. And at three pounds per week he'll meet his goal."

"And don't you forget his studies. If he doesn't pass those exams you'll be right here with him until he does," Vernon spat red faced. "I don't care if it takes until Christmas! If Dudley can't go back to school you can't either."

"That's hardly fair," Harry cried.

"I don't care. That's my final word on the matter," Vernon muttered opening his paper. "And you need to walk earlier when no one else is up. I won't have Dudley be seen walking about the neighborhood with my no-good nephew."

This time Dudley spoke up, "Dad! Harry hasn't done anything at all. This is all my fault."

_Whoa!_ thought Harry. _Did Dudley just admit he was to blame? To his Dad no less? AND he stuck up for me? _Harry shook his head in wonder.

"Where's my tea?" Vernon bellowed totally ignoring his son.

Harry got up and fixed a large pot. Setting out three filled cups on the table, he slipped the potion bottle to Dudley. "Put in one spoonful and drink while hot," Harry whispered. He laid a spoon next to the poured tea.

Dudley looked grumpy and rebellious. He was still steaming from the insulting behavior of his father. Harry watched him stare at the newspaper hiding Vernon from view. "Go on. Do it, " Harry whispered again making pouring motions. Dudley uncapped the bottle and sniffed the contents.

Behind the paper Vernon yelled, "Where's my breakfast! Does a man have to starve around here on a Sunday?"

Dudley looked at the potion, then he looked at his tea, then he looked at his father. With an evil smirk, Dudley reached over an poured a big splat of weight loss potion into his father's tea. Harry moved to stop him, but at that moment Uncle Vernon picked up the cup and took a long drink.

Harry held his breath. Dudley did too. Uncle Vernon took another long drink before setting the cup down. "Breakfast, Harry!"

Harry turned and pulled out the frying pan. The potion must not taste bad because Uncle Vernon hadn't noticed it at all. Harry cooked sausages, bacon, tomatoes and eggs for his uncle just like he always did. This morning he scrambled egg substitutes with a little bacon for Dudley as well. He served the two their respective plates. Turning to make toast, his aunt entered the kitchen.

"Vernon dear, what's wrong?" Harry heard her exclaim.

Spinning sharply, Harry saw that Uncle Vernon had the oddest expression on his face. His fork was half way to his mouth holding a half eaten sausage. Loud as a vacuum cleaner, his uncle's stomach gave a mighty rumble. Vernon jumped from his seat knocking the chair over, his face growing white. "Excuse me a moment, Petunia," he strained while bolting from the room.

The three of them, Harry, Dudley and Petunia, watched in amazement while Vernon ran straight into the downstairs bathroom and slammed the door. They all listened as loud moans and groans drifted from that direction broken only by the flush of the commode. Harry counted four flushes, wincing. What had Snape warned? _Intestinal indisposition? _He hoped it was only temporary.

Elbowing his guilty cousin Harry hissed quietly, "This is your fault. What did you do that for?"

"He deserved it. Besides, I wanted to how that _thingy_ worked," Dudley elbowed back.

"You gave him too much!" Harry glanced at his aunt to see if she noticed the exchange. Her attention was completely fixed on the bathroom door.

"It'll wear off. Right?" Dudley said shrugging.

Just then the bathroom door opened. Uncle Vernon stumbled out looking rather ill. "Must be the picnic food from yesterday. Never should have eaten that potato salad with kippers!" Suddenly Harry smelt it, that same smell the potion gave off while brewing, only ten times worse. Foul smelling air roiled from out of the bathroom to fill the entire downstairs.

Aunt Petunia gagged. "Maybe you should see the doctor," she suggested. "Let me get some candles."

"I'll be fine. It's just a bad bit of food. No need..." Vernon trailed off before rushing back into the bathroom. His moans were even louder than before.

Harry felt the cool glass of the potion bottle being slipped into his hand. "No way I'm going to take that now," Dudley insisted. "I'll try something else."

"I'll tell you what Dudley, I'll hold on to this little bottle against your next screw up. You have another binge like you did the other night and I'll spike everything you eat with this stuff," Harry smirked.

Dudley looked worried even as he agreed.

_TBC_


	4. Cabbage Soup Anyone?

**Court Ordered Diet**

**by Surplus Imagination**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter, Dudley Dursley and the other characters of the Harry Potter Universe belong to J.K. Rowlings. This writing is for pleasure only. No profit is intended. **

_A/N My kids are demanding more dialogue. It's easier to read, they say. I like the celebrity status this story has won me in my own home. The two of them are very impressed that I can write this many words (not necessarily that the words are great, but I do get a laugh or two). I'm also happy that now the kids can't complain 'Nobody can write more than five paragraphs!' when confronted with their homework! I hope you enjoy this 'dialogue improved' chapter. Well, at least the first part has more dialogue. _

_Cabbage Soup Anyone?_

Dudley didn't give Harry any more trouble that day. Shortly after lunch, Aunt Petunia shooed both boys out of the house so her ailing husband could rest. The teens were happy to oblige as the house smelled terrible. They walked to the local hardware store to buy a pump in the heat of the afternoon. Harry figured the round trip distance could count as the day's exercise quota. Dudley brought the promised cash to make the pump purchase.

"Can we stop for ice cream, Harry?" Dudley asked hopefully. The fabric of Dudley's shorts made a swishing sound as he walked.

"You know you can't have any. Besides, I'm broke." _Because I gave Dung my last galleon, _Harry thought morosely.

"Dr. Atkins says I can too have ice cream," Dudley whined.

"That's only after the initial two weeks. Last time I checked it's only been five days. Since when have you been talking to Dr. Atkins?" Harry wiped sweat from his forehead. "You can have ice water." Actually, that sounded really good.

"Prat. What if I switch diets? Can I have ice cream then?" Dudley persisted.

"To which one?" Harry kicked at a small rock in the road trying to see how far it would travel.

"How about Slim Fast? That sounds promising," Dudley replied taking his own turn at the rock. The extra effort caused the material in his shorts to ride up between his thighs.

"That's a shake diet. Do you think you can do that?" Harry nudged his cousin and motioned at bunched shorts. He took another kick at the rock but must have missed because it didn't skitter ahead.

Dudley pulled the receding material back down with a jiggle of thigh. "What, have a shake with every meal? Sure!"

"No, Dudley, as a meal. That's all you get," Harry snorted wiping sweat from his forehead. It was too hot to exist. He should have given in on the ice cream first thing.

"Bugger. How about Dolly Parton's diet?" Dudley's rustling shorts were back, _swish swish swish swish . . . _

"You have to eat loads of watermelon on that one. You hate watermelon. Just who is Dolly Parton anyway?" Harry asked starting to limp. There was something in his shoe.

"She's that country western singer with the big . . . ," Dudley made cups with his hand and stretched them way out in front of his chest.

"Yeah, right. I remember now. Why don't you try cabbage soup diet? You can eat all of the soup you want. After three days you get to add bananas and milk. On the seventh day you get steak." Harry stopped and examined his shoe. The rock he had supposedly missed was lodged in the toe of his worn trainers. Harry steadied himself against Dudley's arm while he picked out the stone. He nodded his thanks and the two continued.

"I like all-you-can-eat and I like steak. Can we put steak in the cabbage soup?" Dudley brightened.

"Not a chance," Harry intoned while staring at his shoe. The bottom was coming away from the top. The two pieces flopped distressingly as they walked. Maybe the hardware store would give him a string to tie the separation. "You have to follow the diet exactly or it won't work right."

"I want to try that one. I like cabbage. Can you put potatoes in the soup?" Dudley asked. "You need new shoes," he said pointing at Harry's flapping trainers.

Harry only grunted in return. The flapping was irritating, much worse than the sound of Dudley's shorts. Maybe he could request some Muggle money from Gringotts to buy a new pair. Other bits of road debris infiltrated the open fissure. Harry had to stop several times to empty his shoe. On one of the stops, Dudley reached over and slapped Harry hard on the back.

"Ahhhhh! What was that for?" Harry screamed arching his shoulders back in pain.

"Just checking to see if your sunburn was still painful," Dudley smirked. "You really ought to use sun block lotion. How's your shoulder? Burnt too?" Raising one meaty hand to slap Harry's shoulders, Dudley laughed as his cousin shied back in alarm. The broken sole of Harry's worn shoe audibly split further revealing half his foot.

"You keep that up and I'll spike your afternoon tea!" Harry growled as he removed the offending shoe. His back stung, Dudley's slap had been really painful. He would have to remember to sneak Aunt Petunia's sun block this afternoon. The shoe was a loss. Mournfully, he removed the lace, put the shoe back on and tied the whole thing together with the lace. The process took a few minutes adjusting the shoe lace so the pitiful mess wouldn't fall off.

After a long silence Dudley asked, "What's it like at your school?"

Harry pondered his answer carefully. How much could he say and not break this strange, new rapport they held? Even the sunburn slap was more comradely than mean. "I share a dormitory with four other blokes. It's very old fashioned. The beds all have curtains." Harry looked at his cousin trying to glean the reason behind the question.

"That's not what I want to know. Are those Demeaner things there?" Dudley queried keeping his eyes lowered on the road. His cheeks were very red, but then it could just be the sun.

"Dementors, they're called Dementors," Harry replied carefully. "No, they guard Azkaban Prison."

"Horrible those," Dudley shuddered. "What do you have to do to get put in prison?"

"Well, one thing is to use magic in front of Muggles, I mean normal people." Harry stopped to pick out another small stick from his wounded shoe. "Why don't we talk about something else?"

"You used magic in front of me back then. You know, to drive those D-thingys away. Why didn't you go to prison?" Dudley took advantage of Harry's stop to sit under a shade tree.

Harry scuffed his good shoe. "The Ministry tried, but I was able to prove it was self-defense. The Magic Secrecy Act doesn't apply to family members. My crime was using magic away from school."

"Stupid rule," Dudley said fanning himself. The heavier boy was sweating profusely.

Harry nodded. He reached over to help his cousin up hoping the conversation was at an end. No such luck.

"Sometimes I think that night didn't really happen. The whole thing seems like a nightmare," Dudley ventured while heading back down the road. "It was like my whole life was flashing before my eyes. All the bad parts, that is."

Harry had to ask, "What did you see, Dudley, when the Dementors were giving you nightmares?"

"See? Nothing, but I dreamed of lots of things like the time when Mum left me behind at the store and when I had ants crawling down my pants at the beach. The worst was when I was picked on by the kids at school . . . ," Dudley trailed off lost in thought.

"When did kids pick on you at school?" Harry asked incredulously.

"All the time! Kids were always out to get me. At least until I stopped them. What are you on about? You were there," Dudley exclaimed.

"I don't remember you getting picked on. Well, not after that first year. I remember that one girl teasing you about your shirt being too small, but you punched her in the nose. Made it bleed too," Harry returned.

"Like I said, they picked on me until I stopped them." Dudley looked fiercely satisfied with himself. Turning to Harry, Dudley asked, "What nightmares do those things give you?"

Harry was bothered by the knowledge that Dudley might have turned into a bully because he thought everyone was picking on him. "I hear my mother screaming the night she was killed," he answered truthfully.

"Really?" Dudley was morbidly curious. "It must be horrible. Did she really get blown up?"

Harry couldn't believe he was talking about this yet his mouth answered, "No, she was killed by a dark wizard with tremendous power."

"Maybe he blew her up!" Dudley enthused disgustingly.

"Dudley! I don't want to talk about this," Harry snapped.

"Fine, sorry I asked. What was her name anyway? Mum never said." Dudley continued down the road totally unfazed by Harry's discomfort.

"Lily, her name was Lily," Harry answered gratefully at the change of subject.

"Oh, another flower name like Mum. Why don't you put some lily-pads in the pond? That would be nice," Dudley prattled on, his shorts swishing again.

"That would be really nice," Harry smiled.

The owner of the hardware store took pity on the two sweating youth and provided large glasses of ice water. Dudley even remembered to say 'thank you' without prompting. Harry bought the pump and tubing he needed for the backyard pond. Instead of a packaged statue, he was planning on creating his own fountain with more of those stones that ringed the perimeter. The tubing would push water up through the stones making it look like water was bubbling out of the ground. Harry hoped he had enough stones left.

After buying the pump, Harry steered Dudley straight over to the paint section. Practically twisting his cousin's arm, Harry made Dudley buy the right color paint to cover the graffiti on the police station door. The curse words had been blacked out already, but the door was still marred.

"I can't do that. Somebody will see!" Dudley shrieked.

"They'll see you making an amends and appreciate it," Harry stated flatly.

"What if a reporter comes by? What if they take a picture?" Dudley was nearing panic looking all around as if reporters were lurking nearby.

"Then you'll smile for the camera and tell them how you are making things better. Then they'll print a new story on how rehabilitated you have become. Buy a couple of brushes too," Harry prompted. "You are going to fix everything you did wrong, Dudley. Count on it." This time it was Harry that looked fiercely satisfied.

Harry made Dudley carry the paint can all the way to the police station. Then he made Dudley go in and ask the officer in charge if he could repair the paint on the front door someday this week. The office in charge asked Dudley a few questions that mostly Harry replied to, inspected the paint, and allowed that Tuesday afternoon would be a good time for paint to dry. He would expect Dudley promptly at three that day.

Dudley was subdued during the interrogation. He was surprised when the officer slapped him on the back saying, "That's a good lad! Fixing our door is the right thing to do." Dudley nodded in amazement.

The walk back home lacked conversation. Harry was absorbed in keeping stuff out of his gaping shoe. He had forgotten to reenforce it back at the hardware store. Dudley was lost in thought as well. When they got to Privet Drive, Harry went to the backyard to work on the pond while Dudley headed inside for a snack.

Harry sighed in relief. He stood by the half-finished pond reveling in the solitude. It was nice to have some time alone. Unwrapping the pump, he pulled out the instructions. The English translation was finally found after pages of Chinese, French, and German.

"Install pump above ground allowing for substantial airflow," he read aloud. No problem, he could build a partial box to cover the pump at the edge of the pool. He continued, "Attach intake tube to large male coupler. Attach outflow tube to small male coupler. Secure outflow tube into fountain placing end of tube where the water should flow." Easy enough. This was a breeze!

Harry read on, "Wire the pump into the electrical lines being sure to ground the circuit." What was that? He read it again. What electrical line? What circuit? How do you 'ground' it? Harry assumed the pump would just plug in somewhere. He knew nothing about electricity except to stay away from it. Worriedly, he flipped to the next page looking for salvation from his technology ignorance. There was just more instructions in Spanish. Bollocks!

Wanting to rip the multilingual booklet to shreds, he heard Dudley come out the back door.

"Mum wants you to go to the store for more candles," Dudley said in a bored tone. "Dad isn't feeling any better and the whole house stinks."

"Can you go? I'm kind of in the middle of . . . this," Harry gestured at the pieces of pump scattered about the ground.

"You want ME to go to the store?" Dudley asked in wide-eyed alarm. "What if I buy candy bars while I'm there?" He quickly stuck both hands in his over large pockets as if to hide them from temptation.

"So don't look at the candy," Harry replied turning his attention back to the instructions. Maybe a diagram would help.

"What if I can't help myself," came the anguished reply.

"No one's going to make you buy a candy bar. Just walk away." Harry gave a cry of frustration and threw the booklet to the ground. He was going to have to ask for help, but from whom?

"Easy for you to say," Dudley scoffed. "What's the matter with you? Did you girlfriend already dump out?"

Harry snorted, the idea of him with a girl friend was ludicrous. "Ginny's not my girlfriend, I told you," he said. "This pump has to be wired into an electrical line and I don't know where one is or how to do it."

"You have to lay a line in from the garden shed and wire it directly. What's the problem?" Dudley reached down to grab the cast off instructions. "This is pretty clear. Ought to take you a couple of hours if the stuff is in the shed."

"You know how to do this?" Harry asked. "How? Do you have any experience? Where did you learn?" The thought that Dudley actually knew something useful was astounding. Harry knew his cousin wasn't as stupid as people thought, but he never imagined actual knowledge.

"I have a Construction and Engineering class at Smelting. It's just shop class really, with a fancy title," Dudley shrugged. "It's the only class I passed with an Exceeds Expectation. I like working with my hands."

"Brilliant!" Harry's spirits lifted. "If we have the stuff, can you hook this pump up?" He felt like doing a little dance of joy. He could get his fountain working, maybe today!

"Suppose so, it's for Mum after all," Dudley mused. "Let's check the shed," he said excitedly heading off in the right direction. Harry followed quickly behind.

The garden shed held everything necessary for laying ground wires. Last Christmas, an electrical contractor was hired to install ventilation fans in the garden shed and left behind all extra supplies. The contractor had to run an power line from the house out to shed to do the job. Dudley said that he could use these supplies to run wires from the electrical box in the shed to the pump. But first Harry would have to dig a trench about ten centimeters square from the shed to the pond to lay the wires inside electrical piping. Once completed, the electrical piping would be buried.

It was decided that Harry would dig the trench and install the pump while Dudley went to the store for candles. Dashing back in the house for sun block, Harry quickly checked the refrigerator for the makings for cabbage soup. Aunt Petunia was sitting at the kitchen table drinking tea.

"Good afternoon, Aunt Petunia," said Harry pleasantly opening the refrigerator door. "How is Uncle Vernon doing?" The whole fairly reeked of that awful bathroom smell. He hoped the odor wouldn't make a permanent home in the carpet and drapes. Checking the vegetable bin he noticed there was plenty of cabbage.

"He's better than this morning but he's still unwell," Aunt Petunia snapped as Harry closed the door. She peered at him suspiciously. Leaning forward she asked, "What did you do to his breakfast?" Her long, boney fingers gripped the teacup painfully. Harry wondered if she would throw the cup at him.

"Just the usual things, Aunt Petunia. I made sausage, bacon, eggs and tomatoes just like everyday," he placated mildly. Harry knew the warning signs of a conniptions fit coming on and started edging for the back door.

"I think you poisoned him," Aunt Petunia said in a small tight voice. She looked a little wild-eyed. "Don't you touch that back door!"

Harry let go of the door knob raising his hand in front of him. "I didn't do anything to his breakfast. It was just regular food."

"So what were you doing in the refrigerator right now? Looking for the means to finish him off?" The questions started off quietly and ended with a ear piercing shrill. Harry winced.

"No. I was looking to see if I could make vegetable soup for Dudley's dinner. He's switching his diet," Harry said nervously. Aunt Petunia looked ready to blow. "He can eat as much as he wants of this soup." Luckily, his aunt softened at the mention of her precious son.

"Poor Dudley, so misunderstood, such a good son...," she trailed off. "Give me the recipe and I'll make it. I don't trust your cooking!" she spat.

Harry nodded and ran up to his room to fetch the recipe holding his nose the whole way. Lit candles lined every surface but did little to ease the smell. Harry could hear Uncle Vernon moaning loudly from the upstairs hall. His uncle didn't sound better to him. Tension gripped his middle as Harry contemplated that he had made the 'poison' his aunt accused him of even if the actual poisoner was Dudley. Regardless, he would have to fix this.

In his room, Harry stuffed the cabbage soup recipe in his pocket as he reached for parchment and a quill.

_Dear Professor Snape,_

_Thank you for sending me the recipe for the weight loss potion. I was able to brew it without mishap, however, my uncle accidently ingested a large dose. Is there a counter potion or remedy? He appears to be suffering from severe diarrhea. Will the effects wear off quickly?_

_Gratefully Yours,_

_Harry Potter_

That really hurt to write. Harry could just imagine Snape having a great laugh at his expense. The whole potion was probably a setup anyway. Harry tied the message to Hedwig's leg. The poor owl was hanging at the very edge of the open window to escape the penetrating stench. She launched out on the errand without hesitation.

Holding his breath, Harry ran back down stairs, tossed the recipe on the table next to his comatose aunt and dashed out the back door before she could react. Once outside, he exhaled loudly and took in great, gulping breaths of fresh air. That was better. Harry spent the next couple of hours digging the trench and building his rock pile fountain. His mind soothed with the monotonous motions of the back breaking work. It was good to be back in the garden.

The day started to wear on, the light dimmed in the west as Harry finished his tasks. Dudley finally lumbered out through the back door. He was trailing a small shopping bag in one hand.

"Whatcha got there, Dudley?" Harry asked stretching his back from the strain of digging. His spinal column answered the stretch with loud cracks. Most of his body was covered in sand and dirt. Digging trenches and building fountains was filthy work.

"I bought a candy bar at the store," Dudley said with a heavy sigh. "I couldn't resist." His portly cousin stopped next to the newly built fountain. The heavy stones were piled in an artful fashion against the one side of the pool. The water outflow tube barely peaked from beneath the top stone. The fountain would give the effect of an underground spring bubbling up water to fill the small pool. Dudley swung the small bag in his hand while he examined the design. "Nice," he commented.

"What about your diet? Are you prepared to throw away your life on a sweet?" Harry asked watching the swing of the bag.

Dudley snorted and tossed the bag at his cousin. "Nah, I just couldn't resist the buying it. Argued with myself all the way home about whether I should eat it or not." He watched intently as Harry caught the bag. "I guess I really do want to lose that weight."

Harry looked inside the bag. It contained a king-sized chocolate bar wrapped in gold foil. His stomach gave a growl at the sight. "Good job, I know it wasn't an easy decision to make."

"You might as well eat it, you skinny prat," Dudley sighed. "If it's still around later I might not be so strong. Besides, maybe I can get this pump hooked up before dark."

Dudley sat down heavily and started wiring the pump into the electrical lines laid in the trench. Harry sat on the upturned bucket and watched his cousin work while he made quick work of the chocolate bar. It was really good, full of nuts and caramel. He tried to eat quietly so not to cause a distraction.

After fifteen minutes or so, Dudley climbed heavily to his feet and waddled into the garden shed. Harry followed stuffing the candy wrapper deep into his pocket, Throwing the main breaker off, Dudley took the other end of the wires and quickly attached them to the main confidently. He capped off each one with a brightly colored piece of plastic. Then he threw the main breaker back on. The lights flickered once, then burned brightly. Closing the box he turned to Harry, "Let's go fill your pond and try it out."

"You'll have to fill in this trench tomorrow," Dudley instructed all business. Harry smiled at his cousin's behavior. Dudley all confident and serious was strange in a good way. He grabbed the garden hose and began to fill the pond.

Cricket song filled the evening stillness as darkness crept over the backyard. Harry and Dudley stood side by side watching the pond fill. Fireflies danced around the flower beds flashing beacons of hope for future mates. Harry heard the back door open just as he was turning off the water.

"Cabbage soup anyone?" Aunt Petunia called out the open door.

"Just a minute, Mum," Dudley answered. "I want to see if the fountain works."

Reaching over, Harry flicked the pump on. A loud gurgling answered accompanied the hum of the pump. Water surged out the fountain top twice then settled into a steady stream. The pump worked!

For 30 beautiful seconds all was right in the world. Water gurgled soothingly into a perfect pond. The satisfaction of a job well done hung in the air. Harry sighed in contentment. Aunt Petunia came out the backdoor to admire the pool. She was actually smiling.

Then there was a loud pop, a flash of sparks and the pump went abruptly off. Before Harry could react, another bright flash came from the garden shed and the lights in there went out too. Two seconds later, all the lights in the house extinguished. A heartbeat after that, the next door neighbor's lights went out. And then their next door neighbor's lights went out.

Harry and Dudley stood stunned as one by one, all the lights went out in Little Whinging.

tbc...


	5. Blackmail

**Court Ordered Diet**

**by Surplus Imagination**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter, Dudley Dursley and the other characters of the Harry Potter Universe belong to J.K. Rowling. This writing is for pleasure only. No profit is intended. **

_A/N This story takes place prior to the events in HBP. Many thanks to _my beta, _Acacia59601_

_Blackmail_

Beautifully bright stars twinkled in the sky above Little Whinging. Harry didn't think he had ever seen them quite so bright before. They looked just like. . . .

"Petunia!" A scream of outrage came from inside the house startling Harry from his reverie of the evening sky. The stars were so bright because all of the power had gone out in Little Whinging in a ripple effect starting from the fountain pump in the Dursley's backyard.

"Oh dear," Aunt Petunia muttered looking worriedly at the house. "Call the Utility Department and report the power outage. I have to settle your father," she told Dudley giving his chin a tweak. "It will be all right, Popkin." Spinning, Aunt Petunia reached over and snatched Harry by one ear. "This is your fault, you little freak!" She drug Harry over to the now silent pump by one lobe. "You unhook this contraption and get the power back on. One more problem and I'll lock you out of the house myself," she hissed turning his head loose. Without looking back, Aunt Petunia stalked up the steps into the house. Both Harry and Dudley flinched at the slam of the door.

Harry rubbed his ear making sure his aunt hadn't torn it off. "What went wrong, Dudley? Why did the power all go out?" he asked.

"Dunno, I hooked it up the right way. Maybe it's a coinso . . . coinsodunse . . . co. . . . ," Dudley stammered.

"Coincidence?" Harry finished. "Maybe, but it's not bloody likely." Harry reached over and switched the pump switch off. "How do you unhook the wires on this thing?" He knelt down and examined the electrical leads.

"I told you, I hooked this up the right way," Dudley growled. He walked over to Harry and knocked him off his knees. "You're going to mess it up. Leave it alone!" Dudley raised one fist threateningly.

Harry rolled onto his back holding his hands out, "Calm down. You unhook it then."

"It's not broken. You touch one wire and I'll . . . ," Dudley threatened while lifting Harry halfway off the ground by his shirt.

Harry felt his ire rise as he prepared to take a punch. "Is this what you did to the little Evans boy? Hit him when he was down?" Harry said darkly, clenching his own fists. He may have grown up as Dudley's punching bag, but he was no longer applying for the job. If Dudley started swinging, he was going to swing right back. "You can't solve everything with your fists, Dudley. Now let me go."

Amazingly, Dudley let go dropping Harry in the dirt. He walked away washing his face with his hands. "I know that. It's just hard," he muttered.

Shaken, Harry heaved himself up and brushed off the dirt. The front of his shirt hung down his neck, the fabric was stretched out of shape. He walked over to his portly cousin. "What's hard?" he asked. His own temper was cooling fast.

"My temper . . . my fists . . . my life . . . ," Dudley muttered. "No one ever believes in me. It just makes me so. . . . angry."

"I understand anger. I spent most of the last year lashing out at one person or another," Harry replied, the events of fifth year flashed through his memory.

Dudley looked at him surprised, "But you never hit anyone, right?"

Harry laughed humorlessly, "I punched a prat bad-mouthing my best mate's house during a Qui . . . uh, sporting event."

"No way! Over a house? Did you make his nose bleed?" Dudley's eyes bulged out as he asked.

"It was more about how they lived than the actual house," Harry replied uncomfortable. Why couldn't he keep his mouth shut? "He was really insulting. A regular stuck up snob. The Weasleys didn't deserve that. He made rude comments about my mother's house, too. And no, I didn't make his nose bleed." _But Fred and George did_, he thought, _I just punched him in the stomach_. Harry didn't like drawing parallels from Dudley to either himself or his friends. It was just too . . . uncomfortable. Surely, getting into a fist fight at a Quidditch match was not the same as Dudley beating up on younger kids, even if it was three against one. Harry felt sick with himself. He did not need this conversation.

"I can show you how to do that properly," Dudley offered. He started shadow boxing in the moonlight.

"No!" Harry cried in alarm. "That's not why I told you." _Why did you tell him? _he asked himself. _Why do these personal things keep coming out of my mouth?_ Harry suspected that Hermione would tell him that confession was good for the soul, and that bad feelings would keep surfacing until they were confronted. "Look, that bout of violence got me banned from playing on the house team. For life! No good comes from hitting people, particularly not to get what you want."

Dudley dropped his boxing stance. "You mean it okay to hit someone up if it's unselfish?" he asked with a puzzled expression on his face. "Like when you protect someone?"

"I suppose so. Or when you are in a boxing match, but that's competition not beating." Harry gave a heavy sigh looking around the unusually dark night. There were still no lights on as far as he could see. He needed to focus on the pump. The pump was a safe topic. Harry changed the subject, "We still need to unhook this pump. I wonder what happened?"

"I know what I'm doing. I hooked that pump up correctly. The breaker box must be messed up," Dudley replied. "I'll throw the main breaker off and call the Utility Department. Then, I want some of that soup. I'm so hungry that my belly thinks my throat's been cut." With that, Dudley walked into the shed, flicked the main breaker off and walked back toward the house. As he passed, Dudley punched Harry hard on the upper arm, "I'll show you how to knock that prat's block off any time you want. You have to _protect_ Aunt Lily's honor, you know."

Harry was dumbfounded. He had never heard the words 'Aunt Lily' before. They gave him a chill down his spine, but it wasn't an unpleasant chill. He wondered what Aunt Petunia would say if she heard her precious Diddydums acknowledging the relationship. Harry looked around the backyard garden. Even in the darkness the garden was lovely. In his mind's eye he could see the stone fountain bubbling water into the pond filled with cattails and lily pads with purple flowers on them. Wild, red roses climbed over the fence to mingle with the Fairy's Lure.

Smiling to himself with the vision, Harry made his way to the back door climbing each step with weary legs. Aunt Petunia's face suddenly appeared in the door window as he reached for the knob. He heard her say, "You stay outside and wait for the repairman." The sound of her words were muffled by the window glass even as he heard the door lock.

With another heavy sigh, Harry plopped down on the top step. His stomach gave a rumbling protest of emptiness. Dudley's candy bar had been tasty but it hadn't filled him up. Perhaps the repairman would come soon and Aunt Petunia would let him in the house to eat. _It's more likely to rain meat pies than a utility worker show up so soon,_ he thought.

A small brown owl came flying into the backyard clutching a cloth wrapped bundle. It was Pig! Harry coaxed the small bird to land on the step next to him and untied the little owl's burden. Pig hopped up and down the stairs excitedly as Harry undid the bundle. The cloth contained a dozen chocolate biscuits and a letter from . . . Ginny? Harry wasn't sure if he should be delighted or worried. Stuffing one of the biscuits into this mouth he opened the letter and read:

_Dear Harry,_

_I just found out that my sorry excuse for a brother sent you a mushy 'thank you' letter in my name. Hold on a minute while I go bash him again. There, that felt good. It's a good thing for Ron that I can't use magic outside of school or I'd hex him but good! As I was saying, the 'thank you' letter you already got was penned by none other than Soon-To-Lose-His-Life-Ron. Just to clear things up, I named the dog Snitch, not Seeker after you, since his coloring is like a snitch. He is a wonderful puppy and I know that you didn't mean anything, well . . . personal, when you sent him to me. That was a lovely tag you attached, very poetic. I guess not all boys are sodding prats like my brother! Anyway, thank you for the puppy. I think Snitch will like it here at the Burrow the way Mum has been feeding him. _

_Many thanks,_

_Ginny_

_p.s. I would have sent more biscuits but Ron ate the rest. Said it was his duty to make sure you didn't get too fat to fly a broom. He's just mad because Snitch likes me more than him!_

_G_

Harry snorted in amusement. _Everyone seems in the mood for punching someone_, he mused. Pig jumped onto his lap and snatched a biscuit before flying off. Munching down all but two of the remaining crunchy biscuits, Harry slaked his thirst with the garden hose. The water tasted rubbery as it went down. Harry knew that Ginny never could have sent that first letter. She was much too smart to get mixed up with the likes of him. Harry felt a pang of regret at the letter's contents, regret for what might have been. This feeling surprised Harry. He'd have to read the letter again later and think on the matter. Images of Ginny filled his head. He had always been partial to her red hair. He needed more red in the garden. Maybe he would plant climbing roses on the fence by the garden gate, some wild, thorny ones with red blooms.

Harry went back to his upper step and wrapped up the letter with the remaining two biscuits. He had a feeling he'd want them later. There was a good possibility of being locked out of the house all night based on Aunt Petunia's behavior. Given the smell leaking from under the kitchen door, that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Harry sat a moment and pondered his irritable uncle's health. He wondered if Snape would deign to reply to his letter or if he was just having a great laugh at Harry's expense.

As if on cue, a large black raven bearing a letter glided into the backyard on silent wings. It landed majestically on the stone fountain and neatly folded midnight black wings. Pocketing the cloth wrapped biscuits, Harry rose to take the letter. As he took the bit of parchment, the raven launched into the air, its wings hit Harry full in the face driving him backwards. Muttering at the rudeness of the bird, Harry looked at his letter. It was, predictably, from Professor Snape. Only he would have such a regal and rude messenger.

"Excuse me, Son. Is there where the transformer blew?"

Harry turned to find a Utility Department workman standing in the backyard just inside the gate. The man's bright yellow hard-hat sported a white light on the front, the beam blinded Harry's dark-accustomed eyes. Raising one hand up to block the glare, Harry carefully went for the wand in his back pocket with the other hand. He heard the back door open and someone walk out. Harry kept his eyes on the workman while he heard Dudley say, "I can show you where it happened. Right this way."

Dudley led the workman over to the pond. He was carrying a large flashlight and directed the beam while quietly explaining what had happened. The workman nodded periodically, and then knelt beside the pump in an awkward squat. Instantly, the waist of the workman's pants pulled downward showing a good deal of the man's buttocks. _Look! A full moon_, Harry thought to himself, choking down a laugh. It wouldn't do to make fun of the man who might get the lights back on. His amusement was doubled when Dudley squatted down next to the workman unveiling his own pasty white expanse. Harry relaxed his guard. No self-respecting Death Eater would allow his bum to protrude.

Harry spent the next few minutes entertaining himself with mental images of various people mooning him in different situations; Draco mounted on his broom, Filch cleaning the floor, Snape bent over a cauldron during class. Harry realized then that he might have gotten too much sun that day. Snickering at his own immature behavior, Harry watched Dudley and the workman enter the garden shed, bang around for a few minutes and come back out. Neither one bothered hefting up their trousers. Harry thought that certainly, they must feel a breeze! The workman left the backyard through the gate while Dudley joined Harry on the step. Harry confirmed that Dudley's pants were still riding low on his hips showing a fair amount of crack.

"Bob said the electrician must have hooked the ground wire wrong at the breaker box so when the pump tripped the breaker the whole thing blew instead of simply shutting off," Dudley explained all in a rush. "He moved the ground and is going to replace the transformer at the corner junction. That should restore the power lines."

Harry tried to keep a straight face, but found he couldn't get the image of twin moons out of his head. Grinning like an idiot he asked, "Can you say that in English?" Harry hitched up his own pants extra high hoping to give Dudley a hint. He stifled a another snicker.

Giving him a strange look Dudley replied, "It wasn't my fault. It's fixed. The lights are going to come back on. What's up with you?"

Harry choked on a laugh and started to answer when all the lights came back on. Next door he heard someone cheer. Aunt Petunia flung open the back door and ordered both boys back inside. "Finish your supper, Dudley. I'm taking your father up some of this excellent soup." Aunt Petunia ushered them into the foul-smelling house. Harry saw a large, steamy pot on the stove. "Make sure you do the washing up before bed," she said pointedly at Harry. Taking a bed tray of soup, bread and tea, Aunt Petunias left the room with the parting shot, "Dudley dear, please raise your trousers. Your backside is showing."

After giving Harry a look of hatred, Dudley hitched up his pants and sat back down to his bowl of cabbage soup. Instead of using a normal container, his cousin was eating out of a large mixing bowl, his head bend low over the wide brim.

Hesitant, Harry walked to the stove and gave the mixture a stir. A diet version of cabbage soup couldn't possibly be appetizing despite Aunt Petunia's proclamation. Surprisingly, the soup was bursting with vegetables and looked delicious. When Harry lowered his head to get a good sniff, he could smell the tantalizing aroma without the seasoning of Uncle Vernon's sickness. Harry wished he could keep his face there until morning. Instead, he scooped out a bowl of soup and headed for the kitchen table. He fished out Snape's letter from his pocket as he sat down. The parchment crinkled in his hand.

Dudley finished his meal with a last slurp, a loud belch and a clatter of a tossed spoon. "That was good," he drawled rubbing his stomach. "That's the first time I've been full all week. This is a diet I can live with," he said belching again. "What's that? Another love letter from your gal?"

Shaking his head no, Harry broke the wax seal. He read silently:

_Dear Mr. Potter:_

_How unfortunate that you did not heed my warning. Under ideal conditions, an excess dosage of that potion should not prove fatal. The victim is advised to remain completely calm until the symptoms subside or risk suffering evisceration through the rectum. I'm sure you can imagine just how painful that could be. The potion will metabolize at a rate dependent on the amount taken and the gross body weight of the victim. An estimate of time for your Uncle to be symptom-free is six to eight weeks. _

_Allow me to remind you that the use of magical potions on Muggles is strictly prohibited by both the Hogwart's charter and the Ministry of Magic. Given your current persona non grata status with the Ministry, knowledge of your blatant rule-breaking would result in expulsion from Hogwarts at the very least and a six-month term in Azkaban Prison likely. _

_I have been instructed to inform you that Albus Dumbledore, along with the entire Order, is now sequestered for an important matter lasting several weeks. You will not be able to reach anyone other than myself for aid earlier than August 1. _

_That being said, there is an antidote to this potion. It involves a two-part cure that I, alone, can perform. _

_Now that you understand the situation, I would like to offer you a trade. I am willing to reverse the effects of your negligence in return for your wizard's oath not to attend Advanced Level Potions, even if your dubious OWL scores should gain you admittance._

_If you agree to these terms, sign your name on the line below. The parchment is enchanted to reveal your agreement to me immediately. Your signature will result in a binding wizard's oath._

_Failure to sign this agreement will result in an automatic refusal of these terms. There will be no further negotiations. _

_You have five minutes from the reading of this missive to sign before it self-destructs. _

_SS_

Harry sat back in utter disbelief. Promise not to attend Potions? Did that mean he had received an Outstanding on his Potion's Owl? Was his dream to become an Auror now possible only to be wrenched away by Dudley's moment of revenge? His heart racing, Harry read it again. Maybe Snape was lying.

Precious seconds ticked by as Harry examined the parchment for signs of dishonesty. No, Snape wouldn't directly lie. Harry had no doubt that should he owl Dumbledore, Madam Pomphrey or even Mrs. Weasley for help, he would receive no immediate answer. Evisceration? That seemed so far fetched, but could he risk it? Was Snape bluffing? He didn't seem the type although you never knew with Slytherins. The weight loss potion was clearly a carefully formulated trap. Once again, Harry had acted before thinking. This was yet another thing he would have to fix. "Dudley, I need something to write with," Harry said his eyes grimly scanning the paper calling out his career's doom.

"Why don't you get it yourself?" came a cranky reply followed by a distinct sound of flatulence.

"I need a pen now!" Harry yelled. "Quickly!"

Whether it was the tone of his voice or the stormy expression on his face, Dudley jumped up and immediately brought Harry a pen with black ink "What's wrong?" he cried. "What does the letter say?"

Harry snatched the pen and signed his name in large, furious letters. He pressed down so hard that the parchment ripped slightly. At the last curve of the last signed 'R', the parchment went entirely blank. Moments later the reply appeared in bold, black ink, one word at a time:

**_Wise choice, Potter. I will arrive to administer the antidote tomorrow afternoon at 4:30 p.m.. Make yourself available at that time. _**

Dudley read each word aloud as they appeared. "What antidote?" he gasped.

The parchment began to smoke, then burst into flames. Harry pushed himself back from the table using one hand to move Dudley to a safe distance. The flames withered leaving no ash. There was no mark on the kitchen table top. Dudley's eyes widened at the sight. "What is this?" he whispered.

"Blackmail," Harry replied grimly.

tbc. . .

_A/N Coming in the next chapter, Snape meets Petunia Dursley!_


	6. Serverus!

**Court Ordered Diet**

**by Surplus Imagination**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter, Dudley Dursley and the other characters of the Harry Potter Universe belong to J.K. Rowling. This writing is for pleasure only. No profit is intended. **

_A/N I know this chapter is late in coming. Sorry about that. HBP monopolized my attention for a while and led to writing WooDoo, an HBP One-Shot. I hope you take to time to read that little bit of humor. There are no real HBP spoilers in this chapter._

_Spinner's End_

Severus Snape lounged on a tattered settee in the sitting room of Spinner's End. He was awaiting Potter's reply to his offer. The drab surroundings created the perfect foil for his brilliant blackmail plan. This tasty bit of coercion was the only pleasant item on his summer agenda.

It wasn't that he hated the boy. Not entirely. Despite Dumbledore's accusations to the contrary, Severus did realize that Harry was not James Potter. Where James had been conceited and arrogant, but entirely admirable as an enemy, Harry lacked the selfish mean-streak that defined James. Severus was sorely disappointed in James' son.

Severus had spent the last five years on guard against potential pranks by Harry Potter and his annoyingly loyal friends. Five years of watching out of the corner of his eye, and not a single prank. Five. Long. Years. What a wealth of wasted opportunity. Instead, he had to deal with Potter's endless fame and annual death-wish antics. Not a year went by that Severus didn't have to save the brat's life. How annoyingly tedious.

His school days at Hogwarts had been the best years of Severus' life. The superbly intense rivalry with Potter, Black and Lupin had filled his days with a buffet of wild schemes, attacks and sweet pay-backs. Oh, how he longed for the heady days of youthful, yet somewhat innocent, malice to return.

Savoring a sip of fine red wine out of a dented tin goblet, Severus glowered at the blank parchment centered on the nearby table. His plan was perfect. Potter would sign the binding wizard's oath. The Boy-Who-Lived would then be at his academic mercy. Unfortunately, this delicious blackmail really didn't matter anymore. Potter had only earned an Exceeds Expectation on his OWL. The score had come in just this morning. It was a very high Exceeds Expectation, only two points from an Outstanding. This high score puzzled Severus. Potter was consistently horrible in his Potions class.

The parchment gave a vibrating hum. Severus gripped his goblet tightly and watched Potter sign his Auror career plans away. The signature has heavy, obviously written in anger. Severus uncurled an evil smile when the parchment tore under the pressure of Potter's upset hand. Yes, this was a satisfying piece of blackmail, even if it was unnecessary. Leaning forward, Severus maliciously penned his reply:

_**Wise choice, Potter. I will arrive to administer the antidote tomorrow afternoon at 4:30 p.m.. Make yourself available at that time.**_

The antidote was a simple infusion of Bezoar shavings and sassafras. This was combined with an even simpler, although little known, incantation to banish excess gas in the intestines. True, only Severus knew of this cure, since the weight loss potion was his own creation. He had been trying to invent a potion for weight gain, and had suffered unexpected results. He told no one of his apparent failure, or inadvertent discovery. The needed infusion was already brewed, awaiting the following afternoon's anticipated delivery.

A loud metallic clang rang throughout Spinner's End. Severus scowled at the sound of his unwanted houseguest rattling around in the kitchen. The rat was undoubtedly looking for his tenth snack of the day. Maybe Severus would use Potter's potion on the unsuspecting rodent? That, too, would be amusing. He made a mental note to confiscate the potion after he cured the brat's uncle.

Severus hadn't lied when he said that the potency of the potion changed when used on Muggles. The potency decreased on the non-magical and the symptoms were notable dampened. Although unlikely, evisceration was theoretically possible when used on wizards. Yes, Pettigrew deserved an introduction to this potion, and an even closer fellowship with the commode. Severus' summer was looking brighter by the minute.

Folding the precious parchment and placing it into his inner robe pocket, Severus called to his house-elf to prepare a light dinner. Tomorrow, he would meet Vernon and Dudley Dursley. He had already met Petunia Dursley, who was Lily Evans' sister. Severus had met her briefly during his and Lily's graduation ceremony from Hogwarts. He recalled little of her, other than her extraordinarily long neck.

Tomorrow afternoon ought be interesting on many levels. Severus wanted to see for himself if the memories wrested from Potter during Occlumency lessons were even remotely true. He also wanted to find out if Dudley Dursley was as bad as the Muggle newspaper reported. Yes, this should be interesting.

_Privet Drive_

Harry lay on his shabby bed dreading the coming day. This afternoon, Severus Snape would cure Uncle Vernon of his magically induced diarrhea in exchange for Harry's agreement not to take Snape's Advanced Potions class. The whole weight loss potion had been a clever setup by his least favorite professor. Harry was somewhat impressed by the length Snape would go to keep him out of class. His anger at being blackmailed had mellowed into irritated amusement.

Harry had given it a lot of thought in the quiet hours of the sleepless, early morning. It wasn't that he hated the man. Not entirely. In order to orchestrate that slimy bit of coercion, Snape must have been really desperate to keep Harry out of his class. Desperate, or very bored.

In an effort to cheer him up before boarding the Hogwarts Express, Remus had told Harry stories about an ongoing prank war the Marauders had with Snape, back in their own Hogwarts days. Remus' eyes glowed with passion as he told those stories. 'They were the best of times,' Remus had avowed. Harry always felt that Snape took his hatred of James out on his look-alike son, but maybe he was just throwing down the prank gauntlet. Now that he was out of Advanced Potions, Harry was free to engage in a little payback. Plotting revenge cheered Harry immensely. It was almost as fulfilling as working in the garden.

Harry lay in his bed until the dawn broke and sunshine filled the room. The Dursleys were all still asleep. Even Uncle Vernon hadn't made a trip to the loo in a while. Harry rose, showered quickly and headed out to the backyard. The house smelled too heavily of Uncle Vernon's sickness to stay inside for long.

The dewy morning gave way to the heat of another summer day. Harry finished laying the stone edges of the troublesome pond and carefully replanted sod over the electrical wire trench. He planted the rest of the violets, tied up the climbing roses to the fence and pruned the privet hedge.

At one point, Aunt Petunia came out. She glared at Harry for a long moment before retreating back into the house. She locked the door loudly behind her. Harry really hadn't paid her much mind. He discovered several unwanted plants lurking in the flower beds and was frantically eliminating the weedy threat. His mind concocted revenge scenarios against Snape in between the weedy pulls.

"You're getting sunburnt again."

Harry paused from his digging to notice two puffy white feet standing in his newly tilled flower bed. The plump toes of the feet were digging into the freshly turned earth, reminding him of angle worms. Angle worms were disgusting and creepy. Maybe Harry could leave a mess of angle worms on Snape's seat in the Great Hall. Or better yet, find a way to fill his shoes with the nasty nematodes.

"I'm fine, Dudley. Don't you have anything to do?" Harry took his weeding claw and poked at the digging toes. The feet took a step backward in a hopping motion. "Where are your shoes, Dudley?"

"I left them in the bathroom last night. Dad got up in the middle of the night, and . . . well, he kinda of . . . sprayed them." The feet were back. This time, the white toes were curling upward in a flexing motion. Harry resisted the urge to poke at them again.

"What do you mean by 'sprayed'?" Harry wondered, yanking on a dandelion root.

"With . . . you know . . . poo," Dudley stammered. "Can I wear a pair of your shoes, Harry?"

Visions of poo-sprayed shoes swamped Harry's imagination. He had no illusions who would have to clean that nightmare mess up. He shuddered at the thought.

Dudley's feet took no notice of Harry's shiver. "I promised Rita that I would meet her at the shelter by one o'clock." The plump feet started shifting nervously, side to side. "I have to leave right now to catch the bus."

Harry sighed and sat back on his heels. Sweat burned into his eyes as he took in Dudley's jittery form. "The shelter is closed today. It's Sunday, you know."

"I know that. Rita asked me to come special. She needed a favor." Dudley looked pleadingly at his cousin. "Please, Harry? Rita was the only one nice to me at the shelter last week."

"Why don't you wear some of your other shoes? Last time I cleaned your room, the closet was full," Harry wondered, while trying to clean his glasses with his discarded shirt. The shirt wasn't very clean. Harry put the glasses back on, a little less dirty, but very smeared.

"I kinda threw them all away when I first got home from Smeltings," Dudley explained. "I wanted some of those new Nike shoes. You know, the ones that blow up to fit your feet? Well, Dad said, I had dozens of perfectly good shoes. He wasn't going to waste money on such nonsense. Not until I really needed new shoes."

"So you just threw away all of your perfectly good, clean, and might I add, unpooed-on shoes, just so you could get new inflatable trainers?" Harry marveled, gazing at his own wrecked footwear through dirty glasses. "You could have saved a pair or two for me, Dudley."

"If I had done that, Dad would have just made me take them back." Dudley spoke slowly, as if a two-year-old. His fat arms made sweeping gestures in the air.

The two teens just stared at each other. Harry's face was closed with irritation. Dudley's face was open with expectation. Suddenly, Dudley reached over and snatched the filthy glasses right off Harry's face. Before Harry could protest, he watched Dudley wipe the lens clean with the hem of an overlarge purple shirt, and plunk them back on Harry's nose. Harry was stunned. Had Dudley just cleaned his glasses? Why did he do that? Harry felt disorientated from the whirl of thoughts in his head.

"Please," Dudley begged, stretching the word out for emphasis.

Kicking off his shoes, Harry handed them over with a flourish. "Far be it from me to let Rita down. Here you go, Dudley." The shoe lace tying up the broken sole was unraveling into thin shreds.

"You have got to be kidding me!" Dudley looked at the battered shoes with horror. "I can't wear these. Don't you have another pair?"

"I think you are confusing me with someone with a full closet. This is my only pair. I guess it's either these, or the poo shoes," Harry grinned. "Just make sure you are back by four. I may need help with your mum."

Dudley grumbled as he put on Harry's battered and worn shoes. "I should be back by then. Do you need anything else while I'm out?"

Surprised at the polite request, Harry answered glibly, "Thank you, Dudley. I need daffodil bulbs, water lily plants, bugs spray for aphids and a new end for the hose. Oh, and some new trainers. Mine are shot." Dudley just stared.

"You are going to miss that bus," Harry reminded. "You don't want to let your girlfriend down."

That launched Dudley into action. Flopping his overlarge body down on the grass, Dudley struggled to reach his feet with the battered trainers. Eventually, he managed to get both shoes on and wrestled himself to his feet. Harry smothered a laugh at the sight; super large purple shirt with the collar half sticking out and dirt stains on the hem, white and green checked Bermuda shorts, no socks and severely dirty and torn trainers about two sizes too small. To finish the ensemble, Dudley's baby fine blonde hair stuck up in sweaty tufts, rivaling Harry's own messy, raven locks.

"She's not my girlfriend," Dudley panted, trying to loosen a tight shoe. "At least not yet." The shoe gave off a groan and split a seam. Dudley sighed in relief and straightened back up. "All I have to do is pour on the Dursley charm," Dudley waggled his eyebrows up and down, in a suggestive fashion.

"Right," Harry coughed to hide a snort. "Go knock her dead."

Dudley's smile drooped. "I'm done with hitting people. Why do you want me to knock--"

"It's an expression." Harry interrupted. He lightly punched Dudley's shoulder. "It means to impress her with your wit and charm, until she feels like you've 'knocked her dead'."

"Oh, right," Dudley exclaimed, grinning widely. "Not to worry. I'm all over this one." Dudley turned and trotted out through the gate, to the bus stop beyond. Harry shook his head at Dudley's antics and got back to work.

The hours passed unnoticed. Harry neither stopped for breakfast, nor lunch. In fact, he didn't stop at all. He finished all his tasks in the backyard and went on to polish the front yard. His mind occasionally flashed on unpleasant but familiar memories: Umbridge and her blood-drawing quill; Hermione lying lifeless in the Department of Mysteries; Professor McGonagall's face as he was given a lifelong Quidditch ban; Sirius falling through the veil. Each time his mind flashed on a sore spot, Harry drove the memory away in a burst of weeding, mowing and pruning.

The memory flashes hadn't been this bad since he first immersed himself in yard work. All this was stirring up again, no doubt, because of Snape's impending visit. However, things had improved somewhat. This time, when Harry realized that he was in a frenzy of yard work to block bad memories, he would try to redirect his mind toward revenge against Snape. It proved to be a natural switch. The morning quickly passed into afternoon.

"You are getting a sunburn. At least, on the parts not covered in filth."

Harry stopped in mid-clip. He had been leveling out a section of boxwood with pruning shears. Sweat poured down his face and splatted on the insides of his glasses. Dudley's cleaning job was now just a memory; Harry could barely see through the grime-smeared and sweat-splattered lens. However, he didn't need his eyes to know who was standing right behind him. Was it half past four already? Maybe if he stayed very still and didn't answer him, Snape would just go away.

"Has the sun addled your brains, Potter? Turn and face me," growled a low, dark voice.

Harry finished the rest of his snip and carefully placed the boxwood clipping in the lawn rubbish bin. Taking a deep breath, he turned to face Severus Snape.

"An interesting fashion statement you've created here. The earth-crusted socks are just the crowning touch," Snape drawled. His hard, black eyes took in every part of Harry's filthy form. "Where are your shoes?"

Opening his mouth to respond; Harry was surprised that no sounds came out. Merlin, but his mouth was dry. His throat felt like he hadn't had a drink all day. Quickly, he realized that was true. Carefully, Harry cleared his throat and answered, "Sorry, sir. I meant to clean up before you came." He gave a little dry cough and continued, "Dudley has my shoes." His voice broke from dryness, at the last word.

"I believe you need some water." Snape's eyes bore intently into Harry's. Thoughts started swirling immediately. He was being Legilimized.

Harry quickly broke eye contract and threw up the best Occlumency shield he could muster. He felt Snape push harder. Drawing all his strength, Harry reinforced his shield and shoved back, mentally. After a moment, he felt Snape stop probing.

"You have improved, but you still let me penetrate." Snape spoke softly, without feeling.

Dizzy from the unexpected mental assault, Harry swayed a moment while breathing hard. He hated a Legilimency attack. He shook his head to clear it. He felt Snape put a steading hand on his arm. "Water, Potter," instructed Snape's flat voice.

Giving a nod, Harry shoved the pruning shears into his gaping back pocket, picked up the rubbish bin and headed for the backyard. He noticed that Snape lingered in the front yard, examining the landscaping.

Harry stowed the bin and opened the back gate. He headed straight for the hose and turned on the water. After a few seconds, a clear cold stream of water arched out from the hose end. Harry bent and drank greedily, pausing every few seconds to take a breath, before drinking again. It seemed like he drank for an hour. Finally sated, Harry let the hose run over the top of his head pouring down his face. The cold stream cleared his head of dizziness. He eventually turned off the hose and faced his professor.

Severus Snape had continued his examination into the backyard. Harry watched while Snape walked the perimeter, lingering at the small pond. If he noticed the magical plants scattered among the Muggle variety, he gave no indication. Finally, Snape turned contemplative eyes toward the teen.

Harry was overly aware of his apparent state; shirtless, shoeless and covered in dirt. He was quite sure he didn't smell very good. The water recently hosed over his head dripped from his hair in muddy streaks down his bare torso. Harry tensed, waiting for the criticisms to begin, but none came. After several uncomfortable minutes, Harry walked over to his discarded shirt. It was the only dirty item in the immaculate backyard. It was even dirtier than he was.

"If you would permit me . . . " Snape pulled a wand out of his black trousers and proceeded to charm off the worst of the grime. First on Harry's shirt, and then on Harry's body.

Nodding his thanks, Harry donned the freshened T-shirt. He would still need a shower, but he was no longer completely disgusting. Now that his glasses were relatively clean again, he noticed that Snape was appropriately dressed in plain black trousers and a simple white button-up shirt.

"Are you responsible for the grounds?"

Harry nodded again, tensing himself for a lecture against magical plants. To his surprise, Snape only said, "They are beautiful. It seems that you might have one redeeming talent in your waste of a life." Harry's jaw dropped. Was that a compliment from Snape?

"What are you planning to include around the pool?" Snape asked, gesturing to the pond.

"I want to put in cattails and water lilies. I was thinking of yellow daisies around the edge. I want to plant them in patches to look like a natural drift of flowers." Harry surprised himself by answering civilly. "What would you suggest, sir?" It surprised him even more, to realize he really wanted to know what Snape would suggest.

"I think yellow daisies would be too informal for these surroundings. I would suggest Convallaria magalis, Liliaceae family, or commonly known as Lilly of the Valley, tucked between some of the rocks. I would also add magical Koi to the pool. They look very much like Muggle goldfish and would bolster the Fairy Lure you've already planted," Snape advised. "I'm assuming you are, in fact, trying to attract Fairies?"

This conversation was becoming surreal. Harry stifled the urge to pinch himself, to be certain he wasn't dreaming. "Yes, sir," Harry answered. "I'm sorry if this sounds rude, but why are you being so . . . nice?"

Snape's dark eyes glittered like black diamonds. "Have you never encountered a gracious winner, Potter?" He paused, as if savoring a victorious moment. "Seeing that I will never again have to endure your bumbling presence in my classroom, I see no reason not to treat you reasonably. In fact, I truly believe that you require some intervention in your life. Tell me, Potter, when was the last time you ate a meal?"

Harry looked quickly away. "Who can eat with that stench in the house? I'm fine, sir. My Uncle is the one who requires intervention." Harry gestured toward the kitchen door. "Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon don't have any idea that you are coming. I'm assuming that you can handle them . . . reasonably."

Snape only snorted in return as he followed Harry up the back steps. Of course, the door was still locked. He sighed heavily as Harry banged on the back door.

After a good two minutes of pounding, Aunt Petunia appeared in the door's window. She peered through the glass intently. Harry called out, "Aunt Petunia, I've brought someone who can help Uncle Vernon. Will you let us in?"

Muffled by the windowpane, Petunia snapped back. "Who's there with you? Move aside, boy."

Harry obliged by leaning back, out of the way. Aunt Petunia face showed shock. No, it was recognition. Her surprised face bloomed into . . . joy?

"Severus!"

"Hello, Petunia . . ."

_Tbc . . ._

_I'll give you one guess on just how Petunia regards Severus. If you get it right, I'll name you in the next chapter. Please toss me a review :)_


	7. Stink Sap and a Permanent Sticking Charm

**Court Ordered Diet**

**by Surplus Imagination**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter, Dudley Dursley and the other characters of the Harry Potter Universe belong to J.K. Rowling. This writing is for pleasure only. No profit is intended. **

_A/N Writing Petunia's relationship with Snape was the hardest thing I've done so far. She is one character I truly despise. Most of you picked right up on where I was heading. I want to give credit to **Nikelodean, japanese-jew, and Purple Artichokes from Mars **for on-target predictions. **Ooki Mamoru** gets an honorable mention for his humor and **Swanpride** for catching my error on the pranks. Thanks to **Cecelle, Ebony Black, and Hary Poter** for participating. I enjoyed reading your guesses more than you can imagine! Thank you!_

_I also owe serious thanks to my lovely beta, Acadia59601. A couple of the best lines are hers!_

_**Stink Sap and a Permanent Sticking Charm**_

Harry had never seen Aunt Petunia move so fast before. The kitchen door was unlocked and swung open before he could even blink. An overwhelming wave of putrid air surged from the open door to flood Harry's senses. He heard Snape stifle a retch behind him. If it wouldn't make the smell even worse, Harry was all in favor of retching himself. Well, maybe not in front of Snape.

"Oh, Severus, I knew you would come one day," Petunia gushed, smoothing her hair. "Why did you never write? It's been ever so long."

Bloody Hell! Aunt Petunia knew Professor Snape? Really well, by the sound of things. Harry spun, turning shell-shocked eyes on the Potion Master. Other than a thin sheen of perspiration on his forehead, Severus Snape seemed perfectly composed.

"How nice to see you again, Petunia. It's been nearly twenty years and you've hardly changed." Harry watched, dumbfounded, as Snape stepped forward extending a hand. He casually brushed Harry aside to reach the door. The gesture was not lost on Petunia, judging by the approving gleam in her eyes. "I understand that your husband is suffering from an illness. May I offer my services?" Snape asked, smoothly.

"What?" asked Petunia, puzzled. She ignored the outstretched hand in favor of appreciatively checking out Snape's . . . form? Her eyes appeared to gobble him up from ground to crown. Harry felt his world tilt. Aunt Petunia fancied Professor Snape?

"Vernon, your husband, is he not sick?" Snape gently reminded her. "I have expertise in these areas. I would like to help." Smoothly, Snape lowered the outstretched hand. Aunt Petunia's gaze didn't appear to bother him.

"Oh, yes," Petunia replied, distracted by her study of Snape's clothes. "You are dressed . . . differently. Your clothes are so normal." Petunia froze suddenly, realizing that her behavior must appear odd. Her eyes darted around the room looking to see who might have witnessed her uncharacteristic display. Seeing no one else, she turned looking bashfully at Snape, "Yes, Vernon does need help." Her expression shifted to abrupt loathing. "That one poisoned him!" Petunia pointed an accusing finger at Harry. "He should be punished." It was obvious to Harry, Aunt Petunia was attempting to divert the attention from herself. It certainly worked.

"All the more reason for you to allow me to give aid. I can deal with Potter later," Snape sneered, giving Harry a contemptuous glare of his own. "May we come in?"

Petunia stepped back into the kitchen, allowing them entrance. No sooner than they stepped into the room, she launched herself at Snape in a bone crushing embrace. Harry watched Snape stiffen as long, bony arms wrapped themselves around the man's thin body. To his credit, Snape neither flinched nor gasped. He just stood stoically and endured the forced intimacy. A long minute passed and the clutch continued. Harry squeezed past the 'couple' and moved into the center of the room.

Harry observed with growing amusement that Aunt Petunia was resting her head on Snape's chest, a blissful expression on her horsey face. Snape's face, on the other hand, was far from blissful. His expression was swiftly becoming one of wild-eyed panic. So much for his composure!

Harry wondered just how long his aunt would continue her 'hug'. He also wondered where Dudley kept his camera. A picture of these two would be worth many galleons back at Hogwarts. Harry would be sure to give all the Gryffindors a copy, no charge. Harry smirked at the thought of Snape's panic-trapped face circulating the school.

The long minute grew into two. Snape cleared his throat and gasped, "Potter!" Bulging eyes focused on Harry's amused ones. The message was clear. Get. Her. Off.

"Aunt Petunia, I think Dudley will be home any minute," Harry drawled. He thrust his hands into his baggy pockets, while rocking back on sock-clad heels. Oh, a camera would be very nice right about now.

Like a scalded cat, Petunia jumped back releasing Snape. "You'll have to excuse me, Severus. It's just so good to see you again." Smoothing her hair, she gave a shy grin. "You'll have to forgive my behavior and appearance. It's been a troubling couple of days."

"Not at all, Madam," Snape soothed. "Why don't you show me where your husband is resting?"

"Madam?" Petunia gave a tittering little laugh. "That makes me sound so old, Severus. You weren't so formal, once."

Snape carefully cleared his throat and looked uncomfortably away. "Please forgive me, Petunia. I didn't wish to presume on past familiarities."

"Petunia? Oh, Severus. I want you to call me 'Pet', like you used to," Petunia twittered.

"Madam . . . I mean, Petunia . . . um . . . Pet," Snape stuttered. It was plain Aunt Petunia's attraction to the Severus Snape was a surprise to the man himself. An unpleasant surprise. Unexpectedly, Harry felt a twinge of pity for both his aunt and Snape. This wasn't going to end well. Maybe Aunt Petunia had been hexed or charmed into this ludicrous attraction. Maybe the stress of Uncle Vernon's sickness had addled her brains. Maybe the potion's effects were hallucinogenic and Harry has seeing things. Maybe–

_SLAM_

Dudley was home.

Aunt Petunia straightened up immediately and began to act the 'normal' hostess. Professor Snape regained his composure and retreated a safe distance away from _Pet's_ grasp. Dudley waddled suspiciously fast past the kitchen and directly up the stairs to his bedroom. Harry caught sight of Dudley's overlarge purple shirt, bulging in unexpected places, as it flashed past the kitchen entrance. Harry guessed that Rita's desire to meet up with Dudley had more to do with saving another animal, than to do with the 'Dursley Charm'. Fighting the urge to investigate the purple bulges, Harry offered to lead 'Mr. Snape' up to his uncle's room. This, in turn, caused Petunia to beg a moment to 'tidy things up in the sickroom', before dashing from the kitchen. Harry turned to Snape.

"Can I get you something to drink?" Harry offered. "Perhaps some tea?" Two could play at being gracious.

Snape visibly shook himself at Harry's words. He looked to be coming out of a composed fog. "No, thank you." Severus Snape straightened his clothes, tucked in an errant portion of shirt tail and smoothed back his hair. Then, he took out his wand and began waving it in brisk circles, spinning on his heels. At each swirl of the wand, the putrid air freshened into something more breathable. Out in the hall, Harry heard Aunt Petunia liberally spraying potpourri air freshener from an aerosol can.

Make that several cans.

Harry listened to the ongoing spray hiss up the stairs and out of listening distance. About that same time, Snape finished his swirling and pocketed his wand.

"So, Professor Snape, were you and my Aunt Petunia a couple?" Harry was unable to resist the situation or the question.

"Certainly not," Snape spat, clearly rattled.

"Oh, just a date or two, then." Harry crowed.

"This is none of your business," Snape snarled.

"She obviously fancies you, Professor. Are you implying that she _hugged_ you for absolutely no reason? My aunt doesn't even like to _touch_ people, much less hug them." Harry grinned in such a way guaranteed to enrage his former professor. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind, Harry seriously concluded that the stink in the house was indeed hallucinogenic, or at least inspired insanity. There was no other way he would be acting this way, or saying these things.

"Cease this questioning." Snape took a menacing step forward. "This conversation is over."

"A hex, then." A reckless thrill at provoking Snape shot through Harry's brain, even as another part screamed for him to shut-up.

"Potter!"

"Oh, I know. You brewed a new love potion and used my mother's Muggle sister as a guinea pig–" Harry never got to finish his supposition. At his last insulting question, Snape snatched Harry up by the front of his shirt. The gesture was undoubtedly intended to intimidate. After all, Snape towered over the teen. Instead of making Harry dangle, Snape snatched up the shirt - and pulled it right over Harry's head.

"That move didn't work for Dudley, either," Harry challenged. His voice was muffled by the cloth over his face. His arms waved uselessly above his head, trapped by the baggy sleeves in the rucked-up shirt. He felt ridiculous with half his stomach exposed. Eventually, Snape released his grasp. Harry shrugged his shirt back into place. He resettled his glasses onto his face. Snape's strangely concerned face came into focus.

"Mr. Potter, I think this situation has you overwrought. I will provide no answers to any of your questions. Perhaps your Aunt might entertain your sudden thirst for knowledge. Do not ask me again." Bright black eyes bore into green. "Your behavior is exceedingly strange."

"Oh, Severus," Petunia sang from the top of the stairs. "We're ready for you."

Harry pulled back from Snape's scrutiny. He was far more accustomed to scorn, than searching concern. The black, diamond-hard gaze was unsettling. It was time to divert Snape's attention.

"Right this way, Professor." Harry beckoned. He would take Snape right to Uncle Vernon and he would keep his mouth firmly closed. Snape gave a nod and followed Harry out to the hallway.

The moment he stepped into the hallway, Harry felt as if his face had been smashed into a huge bowl of potpourri. The scent Aunt Petunia thickly sprayed, hung noxiously in the air. Harry's lungs choked on the aerosol laden air in great whooping coughs. The potpourri scent, although overpoweringly strong, didn't begin to cover the reek of Vernon's sickness. It merely added another crippling dimension to the funk.

Through teary eyes, Harry saw Snape hold a handkerchief over his nose as he swirled his wand once again. Quickly, the air cleared. "What miasma is this?" Snape asked. Harry noticed that Snape's eyes were watering as well.

"It's a Muggle air spray intended to eliminate foul odors," Harry answered as he attempted to hack up a lung. "It's supposed to smell like dried flowers and be pleasant."

"It is not effective. The resulting smell is malodorous." Snape finished his wand waving and lowered his handkerchief. "Lead on, Potter."

The air did smell better after the charm. The choking spray had been eliminated effectively. Harry was tempted to ask Snape what charm he used, but remembered his internal promise to keep his mouth shut. He'd just have to write Hermione about it later. He also wanted to ask her advice on his letter and gift to Ginny.

As Harry led the way through the house and up the stairs, he noticed Snape slowing to study the myriad photos of Dudley covering the walls. He also uncomfortably noticed Snape lingering near the door to the cupboard under the stairs.

"Oh, Severus," called Petunia from the top of the stairs. "Did you get lost?"

"Coming." Snape left off his study and briskly mounted the stairs.

Harry stepped aside to allow Snape to pass him and proceeded to slowly climb the last few steps. The upper hallway smelled like a poorly kept privy, overlaid with that thick artificial potpourri scent. Snape walked slowly beside Petunia, discretely swirling his wand behind his back like a boat motor. This time, the charm did little to banish the stench.

Aunt Petunia's and Uncle Vernon's bedroom was at the end of the long hall. Snape paused before entering. After a quiet comment to Petunia, Snape went back to Harry at the top of the stairs. "I need you to distract your aunt's attention away from that room, so I can complete the cure. Will that be a problem?" Snape whispered, intensely.

"What about Uncle Vernon?" Harry asked. "He won't much like you in his bedroom."

"I will take can of Vernon Dursley. You worry about Petunia," Snape sneered.

"Pet," Harry replied, without thinking.

"What was that?" Snape hissed. His steely black eyes started to smoke with anger.

"She wants you to call her _Pet_," Harry stammered. He really had to remember to keep his mouth shut.

"Mr. Potter, I suggest that you keep your mouth shut and your puny mind focused on your goal, however challenging that may be to your limited attention span.. Are we clear?" Snape spat.

Resisting the urge to mimic locking his lips and throwing away the key, Harry merely nodded. How would he lure his aunt away?

Following Snape into the sickroom, Harry was struck by how flowery everything was. The curtains, bedspread, rug, and pillows were all covered in a large floral pattern. Vases of fake flowers decorated the dressers and garish floral prints, gilded in gold frames, adorned the walls. The overall effect was one of, well, flowers. Way too many flowers. It was like being trapped in a florist's nightmare. Harry suddenly understood his aunt's obsession with the garden. She obviously loved flowers, not just the thought of winning 'Best Garden of Little Whinging'. Maybe he should plant more climbing roses over a trellis seat. She could sit there instead of cluttering her bedroom with garish fakes.

Harry didn't think he had been in this room since he was small. His aunt and uncle didn't believe in comforting freaky little boys after their nightmares and small terrors. Harry had his access to this room curtailed by the age of four.

No, Aunt Petunia would never allow herself to enjoy something Harry made just for her. In the past, she had always thrown away his primary school efforts at homemade gifts. Harry wasn't even sure he wanted to do something nice for his aunt. She certainly hadn't done anything nice for him. Ever. Harry tore his eyes away from the decor, muttering at the hallucinogenic properties of the air.

Propped in the middle of the vast bed, was a pale looking, but mercifully asleep, Uncle Vernon. Harry watched Snape and Aunt Petunia confer in tones too quietly to overhear. Harry figured that they didn't want to wake his uncle. Suddenly, Harry saw his aunt laugh girlishly and flip the ends of her hair. Snape took a step away, widening the space between them. Vernon didn't awake.

"What's going on?" Dudley had made his appearance. Harry noticed a liberal sprinkling of black cat hair on the purple shirt. So, the bulges under Dudley's shirt were cat ones.

"Where'd you put the cat?" Harry asked, picking off one of the hairs.

"Your room. Who's that man?" Dudley stared, slack-jawed.

"That's the Potion Master at school, Severus Snape." Harry answered, returning his attention to the two in the bedroom. Aunt Petunia was standing very close to Snape again.

"He's the blackmailer?" Dudley asked. "He looks mean." Dudley's stomach gave a loud rumble.

"You have no idea." Harry watched Snape extricate himself from Petunia's close proximity to stand next to the bed. "Miss lunch?"

Dudley's stomach rumbled even louder. "Oh yeah. I missed snacks too. I'm so hungry that even your shoes were starting to look tasty."

Harry turned to Dudley in laughing surprise. "That's just sick, Dudley." Harry looked down to see a pair of brightly-white new trainers on Dudley's feet. He guessed Dudders had taken the time to go shopping before meeting Rita. However awful they were, Harry hoped Dudley hadn't thrown his only pair of shoes away.

"Harry, did Mum just pinch that man on the bum?" Dudley pointed toward the bed in astonished outrage. Dudley's eyebrows were arched high on his meaty face.

Harry spun and looked up so fast it popped his neck. All he saw was Snape moving quickly to the other side of the room. The wizard was clutching his wand through the pocket of his clothes. It was time for action. "No, Dudley. You must be mistaken." Harry fervently hoped that Dudley was wrong.

"Aunt Petunia, Dudley is here." Harry stepped forward, dragging his outraged cousin with him.

"Mum! Did I just see you-" Dudley's words were cut off by Harry's hand over his mouth.

"Aunt Petunia, could Dudley & I see you down in the kitchen? We were trying to make Mr. Snape here a proper cup of tea, but we can't find the special tea bags," Harry lied through his teeth. He kept one hand firmly over Dudley's mouth, the other hand holding Dudley's shoulder still.

Snape caught on quickly. "Yes, um . . . Pet. I would love a spot of tea. Perhaps one of your famous scones?" he asked, desperately. Harry almost felt sorry for him.

In his grip, Dudley went completely still, then licked the palm of Harry's hand. With a flinch of disgust, Harry let go, wiping his slobbered hand on his shirt.

"Oh, can I have a scone, too, Mum," Dudley begged. "Harry never lets me eat anything good. Can I have one, please?" The last plea was accompanied by a pitiful look.

"Of course, Dudley . . . Severus, this won't take but a minute," Petunia simpered toward Snape.

Harry took the opportunity to drag his cousin out of the door. "I need you to keep your Mum downstairs for as long as possible."

Dudley gave him a shrewd glance. "What for?"

"I need your Mum out of the room so Snape can cure your Dad. You remember him, don't you? Your father, whom you POISONED?" Harry yelled in a raw-throated whisper.

"I want some of those scones," Dudley countered. He folded his armed across his chest. "Four, I should think."

"Four? Are you mad?" Harry spat. "I thought you were serious about not wanting to go to jail!"

"I'm starving, _and_ I have eaten hardly anything today, _and_ I had to wear your awful shoes, _and_ Rita only wanted a favor, _and_ I've had a very bad day. I deserve four scones." Dudley pouted.

"Two. Two scones, but you have to eat a salad first," Harry relented, running his fingers nervously through messy hair. The last thing he needed right now was Dudley on another binge.

"Okay, two scones after a salad," Dudley agreed, brightening. "I can make one of those, you know."

"Yes, Dudley. Why don't you show your Mum what a great job you can do?" Harry rushed.

"Show me what?" Aunt Petunia finally made an appearance from the bedroom.

"Dudley wants to show you his new culinary skills, Aunt Petunia." Harry pushed Dudley slightly forward.

"I can make salad," Dudley declared, proudly.

"Oh, Popkin. How wonderful!" Aunt Petunia fondly cupped her son's cheek and smiled her approval. "You can even help me make the scones."

Mother and son made their way happily down the stair. Harry shook his head at their behavior. Life was getting stranger by the minute.

Inside the bedroom, Snape's was standing quietly by the bed as if nothing untoward had happened. Dudley's accusation had to be wrong. Uncle Vernon was still deeply asleep, oblivious to the dark-haired wizard performing an incantation just over his head. Harry watched Snape finish the charm, set down his wand and remove a small blue vial from his pocket.

"Potter, come here," Snape intoned, uncorking the vial. "I need you to alternate placing four drops of this infusion into his mouth and pressing firmly on the abdomen." He handed Harry the vial and retrieved his wand. "Are you ready?"

Harry nodded as he readjusted his uncle on the bed. It took a great deal of effort just to remove the flowery, overstuffed pillows propping his uncle upright and lay the man down. Whale-like, Uncle Vernon's unconscious bulk jiggled at the movement. The ponderous head tipped backward, allowing the mouth to gape. Still without speaking, Harry left the bedroom and retrieved a plastic eyedropper from the medicine cabinet. He returned to draw a measure of antidote from the small vial. Tasks completed, he raised his eyes to meet Snape's.

The Potion Master had an odd expression of puzzlement on his face. Harry met his gaze calmly. After a moment, Snape raised his wand and drawled, "Now."

Squeezing the dropper, Harry measured four precise drops into the gaping maw of Uncle Vernon's mouth. Across the bed, Snape began an energetic stab and swish motion while muttering a spell. He repeated the motion in waves, from about mid-chest to the groin.

"Now, press firmly on the abdomen holding for a count of five," Snape instructed, stepping back a pace. It was obvious from his expression that something unpleasant was about to happen. Harry had a very bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. He just _knew_ what would happen next.

Harry targeted the center of the mound of flesh before him as the abdomen. He pressed down, firmly, with both hands, fingers splayed. Nothing happened. Harry looked back up at Snape, questioningly.

"Try again and put more effort into it this time. Those bowels aren't going to evacuate themselves," Snape snapped.

Harry's bad feeling multiplied as he put more force into the push. He leaned into the task, applying more pressure, until the inevitable happened. The gas passed. It was loud. It sounded slightly wet. It was horribly disgusting.

Harry held his breath as he pushed for the required five counts. Across the bed, Snape stepped back another pace and began the odor-banishing swirling motion with his wand. When Harry finished his pushing, Snape motioned at the potion vial, again. Desperate for oxygen, Harry took a ragged breath of fetid air. He wished he had asked Snape to perform a bubble-head charm. Too late now.

"Again," Snape barked.

Harry placed four drops of the infusion into Uncle Vernon's mouth. He watched Snape repeat the stab and swish motions all down the body and step back again. Harry took this as his cue to press again. It was easier this time. Harry's hands sank into his uncle's stomach up to the wrist. The resulting flatulence was resounding . . . and foul.

Again and again, the two repeated the pattern. Four drops of the infusion and lots of wand waving, followed by manually forced gas evacuation. After the sixth or seventh round, Harry began to get dizzy. By the tenth repetition, he started swaying.

"Focus, Potter. If we stop now, we'll have to start all over again," Snape said through gritted teeth. "Fainting is not part of this plan. Talk to me."

Talk, huh? Harry groggily shook his head to clear things. If Snape wanted to talk, he'd give him a subject. Harry applied four more drops to begin the eleventh round.

"Okay, Professor. Just why does my Aunt appear to have a crush on you?" Harry's tongue felt thick and clumsy.

"I don't have the faintest idea what you are talking about," Snape replied, without looking up. "I said talk, not ask personal questions."

"She was definitely flirting with you," Harry murmured, pressing down again. The 'gas evacuations' were starting to sound like machine gun fire. The stench doubled, if that was at all possible. Harry's eyes burned from the fumes and his nose was going numb from the overload.

"You are mistaken." Snape spat, even he blanched at the burning smell.

"Aunt Petunia definitely fancies you and she normally despises magical things. Something in the past had a lasting impression on her. How did you meet? Is it connected with my mother?" Harry asked, starting on round twelve.

"Potter!" Snape warned.

"If you don't tell me, I'll just ask Remus," Harry growled. "I'll find out anyway." Snape didn't answer. Harry took a deep breath and announced, "Dudley thinks he saw his Mum pinch your bum."

With a snapping gesture, Snape flicked the last movement and lowered his wand. Harry watched as the man took several deep breaths in an effort to calm his anger, eventually choking on the putrid air. In the end, Snape dropped his head in defeat. "There isn't much to be told and I don't think you'll like what I have to say."

Harry held his breath, unsure of what to say. When Harry didn't respond, Snape raised his head and continued on with his spell casting. Harry continued on as well. By the time Harry was starting on his fourteenth round, Snape began to speak. The man started out fairly quietly. Harry had to strain to hear over Uncle Vernon's gas. Soon, Snape settled into the story and spoke louder.

"I met Petunia during my Hogwart's Graduation Ceremony. You may not know this, but your mother and I were friends. Your father and his annoying sidekicks took exception to our relationship. Violent exception. The day of the ceremony, I discovered that those four delinquents had set a trap for me. A parting prank, if you will, involving Stink Sap and a Permanent Sticking Charm. A very juvenile trap. I easily sidestepped the trigger point, but Petunia did not. She unwittingly stumbled into their midst, becoming ensnared. I hexed the four miscreants with boils and freed your aunt for Lily's sake. After I banished the Stink Sap, Petunia was exceedingly grateful. So much so, she followed me around the rest of the day." Snape paused lost in thought. After a moment, he continued. "I think that was the first time I actually rescued someone. My actions enraged Black so much, I'm certain he hexed your aunt with an Infatuation Charm. Anyway, she hovered on my very heels for the rest of the day, holding my arm and casting doe-eyes at me. I confronted Black about it later. He only howled his glee and denied culpability. I had forgotten that day . . . ," Snape trailed off, as Harry pressed down for the sixteenth time. Only a few ricochet sounds emerged.

"Was my dad involved setting the trap?" Harry asked, carefully. His soul felt punctured at hearing of Sirius' misdeeds. Even hearing his name spoken evoked a wrench of guilt and pain. Still, permanently binding Stink Sap to Snape would have been a funny prank to Sirius. Harry couldn't help but think it would be funny played on Malfoy as well. That thought eased some of the pain. It had been just a prank, after all. One that had been paid back with boils. Harry wondered how Snape undid a Permanent Sticking Charm. He also wondered which boil hex was used.

"I thought I had already made that perfectly clear. You weren't listening, as usual. Potter was always near the center of these things. He and Black were usually partners in crime, joined at the hip, arrogant to the core." Snape paused to press down on Vernon's stomach himself. No further sounds reported. "I think this is done."

For some reason, the last part didn't bother Harry at all. He supposed that he was coming to terms that neither his father, nor Sirius, were perfect people. It was still ok to love them anyway.

"Professor, if Aunt Petunia had an Infatuation Charm placed on her twenty years ago, could it still be active now?" Harry replaced the cork into the vial and handed it back to Snape.

"It seems impossible that it should still work, although Black was powerful and exceedingly clever in his malice," Snape mused. "However it is still unlikely. An Infatuation Charm wouldn't have been Potter's style. He was too busy making cow-eyes at your mother to hex her sister." Clearing his throat, Snape turned to look directly at Harry. "Your cousin was mistaken in his observations, Potter. Very wrong." Snape placed the vial back into his pocket and went about freshening the air again. Harry's foggy brain started to clear as well.

"I don't think it was a charm at all," Harry unwillingly ventured. "I think you saved Aunt Petunia from a situation she would have found terrifying. You defended her honor and became her 'white knight in shining armor'. Of course she fancies you." Harry gave an evil little laugh. "Sirius didn't need to hex her. Her natural reaction would have been funny enough for him. That and you acting so like a Gryffindor."

Snape only snorted in return. "I have fulfilled the terms of our agreement. Your oath is set." Casting another sleeping charm on Vernon, Snape pocketed his wand and left the room.

_Yes_, Harry thought, _the oath is set_. Numb at the thought, and still a little dizzy from the lack of clean oxygen, Harry remained seated at the edge of Uncle Vernon's bed. Out in the hall, he heard Dudley give a cry of fright. Tiredly, Harry heaved himself up from the mattress to save Dudley from his first encounter with Professor Snape.

Tbc . . .

_So, was it too gross? Too unbelievable? Did Petunia really pinch Snape's bum? I would really love to hear what you think. It may save me from eight drafts of the next chapter! Please take the time to review. If you leave your email address I'll write back. Thanks!_


	8. It's Harry's Fault!

1**Court Ordered Diet**

**by Surplus Imagination**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter, Dudley Dursley and the other characters of the Harry Potter Universe belong to J.K. Rowling. This writing is for pleasure only. No profit is intended. **

_A/N I just couldn't help myself with this chapter. _I think you'll see what I mean by the end.

Thank you, thank you, Acacia59601!

**_It's Harry's Fault!_**

Harry shuffled his way tiredly out of his uncle's bedroom. Dudley was cornered between the doorway to his and Harry's bedrooms. Snape was at his menacing best, looming over a terrified Dudley. All Harry wanted was a cold drink, something solid to eat that didn't taste like potpourri, and a moment to sit undisturbed in the garden. Alone. Without Snape's blackmail, Dudley's problems, Aunt Petunia's snideness, or Uncle Vernon's heavy-handed tyranny. Harry really didn't want to save Dudley's hide. At least, not right now. Not with the feel of Uncle Vernon's squishy stomach still fresh on his mind and between his fingers. A person could only take so much on any given day. Harry was at his limit.

"Mr. Dursley, maybe you can tell me just how your father came to be . . . indisposed?" Snape questioned, with an intense monotone voice.

Taking one step backward toward the wall, Dudley stared with a slack-jawed expression. Harry fancied that he could hear his cousin's panic-stricken heartbeat, just like in those old Muggle horror movies.

Snape crowded Dudley even closer. "Perhaps you would like to accept culpability. After all, the potion was obviously intended for your consumption." A half-curtain of greasy black hair fell across Snape's glowering face. There was still no response.

"Mr. Dursley," Snape fairly growled, "I am accustomed to receiving immediate answers to my questions." With an irritated expression, Snape shifted his weight so close to the teen, Dudley had to plaster himself flat against the wall to gain any space. "What is the matter? Cat got your tongue?" Long, tapered fingers nimbly picked up one black cat hair and waved it in front of the fear-struck face.

Dudley made a little nonsense sound of terror and tried to get away, thudding solidly into the door jamb on his right. Harry could see Dudley's chest heaving in panic. as his cousin tried to escape through the plaster and wood. So much for a quiet moment in the garden.

"Professor Snape, I see you've met my cousin, Dudley Dursley," Harry called loud enough to draw Snape's attention. "Dudley, this is Severus Snape, Professor of . . . Chemistry . . . at my school."

"Master of Potions," Snape corrected, waspishly. He did, however, step back giving Dudley space. Harry watched Dudley minutely relax.

"Harry, this man is scaring me," Dudley whined, his double chin wobbling alarmingly.

"Just answer his questions. He won't hurt you," Harry promised. The smell of baking scones drifted up the stairwell. After today's stench-fest, the aroma was heavenly. Snape's odor-banishing charm had worked wonders on clearing the fouled hallway air. Harry felt lightheaded with hunger and fatigue.

"I don't know what he asked," Dudley's voice trembled. "I didn't understand him."

Harry deliberately stepped between Snape and his terrified cousin. Capturing Dudley's gaze, he answered, "He just wants to know why your Dad got sick. He wants to know who's at fault."

"That all? Why it's your fault, Harry." Dudley poked Harry in the chest. Peering around Harry's form, Dudley confidently informed Snape, "It's Harry's fault. Mum has your scones all done." Dudley pushed himself away from the wall, all fear was lost now that Harry had been firmly blamed.

"Mr. Dursley, are telling me that Potter here dosed your father with the weight loss potion? Wasn't that potion meant for you?" Snape stepped around Harry, blocking Dudley's path to the stairs.

"Um . . . yeah," Dudley stammered. "Like I said, it's Harry's fault." The quivering chins were back.

"Indeed? Why would I believe that, Mr. Dursley?" Snape snarled, dangerously.

Harry had to give credit to Snape for pure menacing intimidation. The man was as welcoming as a dark, stormy night, complete with thunder, lightning and hail. Harry was impressed that he was able to penetrate Dudley's usual oblivion; not much ever did. Maybe he could get Snape to threaten Dudley to keep to his diet? Harry briefly considered what bribe might tempt Snape to agree. The only thing he had, that could be counted bribe worthy, was his father's invisibility cloak. No way Harry would give that up, especially not to Snape. His father would roll over in his grave.

"Why? It's always Harry's fault," Dudley affirmed, gaining courage in the familiar routine of casting blame. "He's a . . . you know . . . freak." Dudley pointed a thumb at Harry, while brushing some of the cat hair from his purple shirt.

Harry groaned internally at Dudley's declaration. He didn't need Snape inflamed. That word, 'freak', particularly in reference to wizards, was certain to cause a ruckus. Harry reached out to pull Dudley away from Snape's reach, but was stopped by a band of steel in the shape of his professor's hand.

"A freak? How interesting. Tell me, Mr. Dursley, how exactly did the 'freak' here make your father ill?" Snape stepped further back, amused. A sly smile crept on Snape's face as he let go of Harry's arm and slowly crossed his arms over his chest. "Enlighten me."

Emboldened by Snape mocking smile, Dudley happily answered. "Harry didn't give me any sausage for breakfast."

"Sausage? How did your lack of fried breakfast meat cause your father to ingest the potion?"

Snape asked, cupping his chin with one hand. Harry was not fooled by the man's amused expression. This definitely wasn't going well.

With a heavy martyred sigh, Dudley explained, "Dad was teasing me with his sausage because I wasn't allowed to have any." He stopped to scratch vigorously at one armpit. A thin cloud of black cat hair took flight out of the sleeve.

"Hold still and finish," Snape ordered.

"Well, then Dad started barking orders about what I could and couldn't eat . . ." Dudley trailed off, scratching at both sides of his stomach.

"Wrong day," Harry cut in, absentmindedly. Both Dudley and Snape turned to look at him. "The sausage teasing was the day before the poison, I mean, potion incident," Harry explained with a shrug.

"Right," Dudley continued. "Then it was when he was threatening me not to binge." Dudley scrubbed his forehead in puzzlement.

"Wrong again. I was the one who threatened you about that," Harry sighed. It was time to change the subject. "Why don't we all go downstairs for some nice, hot scones?" Harry shuffled in the direction of the intoxicating baking smell, hoping the others would follow.

Snape took one step toward the center of the hallway, blocking Harry's path. "I will get to the bottom of this," he hissed. Talking over Harry's head, Snape continued. "Did Mr. Potter give your father the potion?"

Dudley's eyes refused to meet Snape's as he tried whistling loudly, the very appearance of wide-eyed innocence.

"Mr. Dursley . . . Mr. Dursley . . . will you stop that infernal noise?" Snape snarled. Harry tried to take advantage of the distraction to make his escape. A large, bony hand gripped his shoulder firmly, keeping him in place. Harry never realized Snape was so strong . . .or that he had feet that large. Harry glanced down to see a huge booted foot crushing his sock-clad toes. Harry struggled to pull his bruised foot out from under Snape's boot. After a moment, he won free, but had sacrificed his filthy sock and some skin off of the top of his foot. Snape, by contrast, hadn't even made an attempt to take his weight off Harry's toes.

Wiggling his now bare and tender digits, Harry was relieved to see none were broken. When he tried to bend to retrieve his sock from under the boot, Snape tightened his hold painfully, digging deep into the tendons. With a yelp, Harry knocked Snape's arm loose and stumbled backwards. "Enough! I'll tell you what happened. As Dudley said, it's all my fault," Harry snapped.

Dudley started nodding manically, pointing at Harry with one hand, while scratching under his shirt with the other.

"Well, Potter? I don't have all day." Snape reached down to dislodge the empty sock from under his boot. Grasping the grimy tube by one edge, he held it out at arms' length.

Harry snatched the sock back, angrily. "Uncle Vernon was upset that I hadn't controlled Dudley's binge. He threatened to keep me from school until Dudley had lost all his weight, regardless of how long it took. He and Dudley had been arguing already that morning. They were already both upset. When Dudley jumped in to defend me, Uncle Vernon started in on Dudley, too."

"I did?" Dudley asked, surprised.

"Yeah," sighed Harry. He was so tired of all this. "I think that was a first. Anyway, long story short, Dudley's dose of potion ended up in Uncle Vernon's tea."

Snape was very silent.

"I think I remember now," Dudley mused. "I was so mad at him that I dumped the rest of the bottle right into his tea." He scratched the center of his chest, absent-mindedly. "Yeah, it really is your fault, Harry."

"Wait a minute," Snape stepped in, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Let me get all this straight. Your father blamed Mr. Potter for your actions. You stepped in to defend Potter, apparently a novel concept for you. Then, you exacted revenge for your father's ire in the form of giving him a massive overdose of an unfamiliar potion. All this is somehow Harry's, I mean, Mr. Potter's fault?"

Both Dudley and Harry nodded.

"You are both giving me a headache. This is absurd. Now Mr. Dursley, this is Harry's fault . . . because?" Snape questioned, blearily.

"He made the _thingy_ I used," Dudley yawned, scratching under his chin. Harry could see a red rash rising on the puffy surface of skin.

"And you, Mr. Potter, just why is this your fault?" Snape asked, closing his eyes. Harry doubted that the man really wanted to know the answer, but his responded anyway.

"Because I didn't control my uncle well enough. If I had been thinking straight the day before, then Dudley wouldn't have binged, Uncle Vernon wouldn't have gotten upset and the potion would have never been made." Harry rubbed at the sore spot on his shoulder. He hoped that Snape hadn't left a bruise.

"The two of you deserve each other. Asinine, the both of you! I have encountered rocks with more sensible logic paths," Snape snarled. He started to enlighten them further, but was interrupted by a call from down stairs.

"Oh, Severus, the scones are ready for you." Aunt Petunia's screechy voice was like nails on a chalkboard. Even Dudley flinched at the sound.

Tiredly, Snape merely gestured for both boys to proceed him down the stairs. Harry was grateful for the distraction.

Down in the kitchen, Petunia wore a frilly apron and was happily serving her unexpected guest a plate of fresh scones. Snape and Dudley sat at the table while Harry fixed tea. The table was prettily set for three.

"Your husband should recover nicely. He'll be fine when he awakes." Snape inclined his head toward Petunia, accepting a hot scone.

Dudley snatched the biggest one off of the plate earning scowl from Snape. Predictably, his rudeness was not noticed or reprimanded by his mother. Without breaking sight of the baked treat, Dudley called out loudly, "I already ate a salad, Harry. This one is scone number one." Dudley broke the scone, blew one long breath on the steaming middle and crammed both halves into his mouth at one time. Snape looked on with disgust.

"Not so fast, Popkin. Don't want you to choke," Petunia chided, stoking Dudley's back. Calling back over her shoulder, Petunia barked, "Where's that tea?"

"Coming, Aunt Petunia," Harry replied. The fact that the table was set for three wasn't lost on the teen. Looked like he was expected to make himself scarce, as usual. Harry poured himself a cup of tea, which he left on the counter, before bringing the teapot to the table. Maybe he could snag one of those scones and take his tea outside.

"This is number two!" Dudley announced, still chewing on scone number one. Bits of chewed scone sprayed out over the table. Snape quickly moved his plate out of the projectile path.

"Slow down, Dudley. The food's not going anywhere." Harry poured three cups of tea, while Petunia removed her apron and took the third seat. "You'll want to make that next one last. You promised to eat only two, remember?" Harry set down the teapot and went to fetch the cream and sugar bowls.

Petunia made a fluttering motion with her hand to cover Harry's comment, obviously embarrassed. "Dudley here is on a strict training diet for his boxing team at Smelting," she confided. "He's the Junior Heavyweight Inter-School Boxing Champion of the Southeast, you know."

"Indeed?" Snape appropriately responded, taking a sip of tea.

"Yes, we are very proud," Petunia beamed at her son. Dudley, on the other hand, appeared to be engrossed in picking up every possible crumb left of scone number two. He was licking his finger so that the crumbs would adhere better.

Snape grimaced at the display. "I can see why." Equally fascinated and disgusted, Snape watched Dudley vacuum the tabletop free of crumbs with a rapid-fire, one-fingered table to mouth motion.

Harry quietly made his way around the table to snag a scone. With Snape and Aunt Petunia's attention on Dudley, he had a fair chance to grab one before being noticed. Smoothly, he reached out toward the plate. Just as his fingers touched the baked goods, Aunt Petunia slapped his hand away.

"What about Potter . . . I mean, Harry?" Snape asked, clearly puzzled why Harry wasn't allowed a scone.

"Oh, that one. He goes to St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys. He's an embarrassment to the family." Petunia moved the scones away from Harry and gestured sharply for him to leave the room. Stomach audibly growling, Harry headed for the back door. He doubted that his aunt would even allow him to retrieve his tea cup. He'd just have to sneak something later.

"Stop right there," Snape ordered.

Harry froze in mid-step, conditioned by years of being in his classroom. Even though he knew the smart thing to do was to go right out that backdoor, Harry stopped and turned back to the table. What happened next was truly astounding. Harry later wondered if he had been fevered or hallucinating at the time.

Snape set his teacup sharply down onto the matching saucer. "It is my understanding that Mr. Potter here attends Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, not some Muggle penal facility. In case you had forgotten, Pet, I am a professor at that ancient and honorable academy."

Petunia was stunned. It was very clear that she saw Snape as her teenaged savior, not as a member of the despised 'freaks'. That he might be a wizard had probably never entered her

mind. Harry winced in sympathy for his aunt's shattered illusions. It did, however, feel good for someone to finally repute the ludicrous claim that he attended St. Brutus's.

"I was not referring to Potter's school," Snape continued. "I was referring to his lack of presence at your table," he snapped, throwing his napkin down. "The boy is clearly faint from hunger, yet you forbid him even a scone. When I arrived this afternoon, he was locked outside, apparently the entire day, without food or water. Have you even looked at your nephew?" Snape paused, pointing to Harry. "In case you can 't recognize the symptoms, he is malnourished!"

"But . . . Severus . . . I . . ." Petunia sputtered. Her horsey face had a look of panicked confusion, glancing from Harry to Snape. "Surely, you don't think that?"

"How could I not? I've had my suspicions of abuse. Each year he arrives at Hogwarts practically emaciated," Snape growled, tilting his chin upwards in defiance.

Harry stood very still, hoping that no one really would notice him standing there. Abuse? Harry wracked his brain, but he just couldn't comprehend the concept as it might apply to himself. Yes, the Dursleys never treated him the same as Dudley, but was it abuse? Harry held his breath for his aunt's answer, his knees practically knocking together in nervousness.

"I will not be subjected to these . . . these . . . unfounded accusations," Petunia shrieked, rising from the table. "You have no idea how I've suffered. The burden your _darling Lily _placed on me when she got herself blown up! I just wish that the brat had gotten blown up with her."

_That's no surprise_, Harry thought, quickly smothering a feeling of hurt. He knew he had never been wanted. But abuse? He had never been truly beaten, nor completely starved. So that ruled out abuse, right? Harry's mind flashed to his half empty plate at a full dinner table, sitting upstairs while the 'family' opened presents and being locked in the cupboard under the stairs. Neglect maybe, but not abuse. The Dursleys' did take him in when he didn't have anywhere else to go. He ought to speak up and defuse this situation, but his voice didn't seem to want to work. His heart pounded loudly in his own ears.

"Unfounded accusations?" Snape snarled. "I had heard the stories about the Boy-Who-Lived-Under-The-Stairs. Frankly, I had dismissed them as teenage pity-mongering and youthful imagination." The Potion master stood slowly from the table to advance on a retreating Petunia.

"It makes a good tale, don't you think? The famous boy who defeated the Killing Curse of the most powerful dark wizard of our time, locked up in a cupboard under the stairs? By no less than his Muggle relatives charged with his well-being." Snape stalked his way deliberately around the table's edge. "Are you aware, Petunia, that your cupboard under the stairs radiates latent

accidental magic? I'm beginning to think those ludicrous stories were true after all. Are they true, Pet? Have you incarcerated and starved your nephew?"

Petunia, for her part, slowly backed away, shaking her head tightly in denial. As Snape got closer, her mouth opened in a silent scream.

Harry felt frozen in place, yet he could still feel the blood draining from his face. This was horrible. No, worst than horrible. Were all the embarrassing parts of his childhood fodder for the school rumor mill? And what was going on with Snape? Harry noticed for the first time that

Dudley appeared to be as disturbed by this scene as he was. It was time to step in, but he never had the chance.

Dudley Dursley stood up abruptly and tipped his chair back onto the floor. Turning to Snape, he held out one hand firmly. "You leave my mother alone, you big . . . um . . . bat!"

Much to Harry's surprise, Snape actually stopped at Dudley's gesture. What happened next was even more surprising. Satisfied that he had stopped the attack, Dudley turned to his mother and asked quietly, "Mum, you don't mean that, do you? About wishing Harry blown up?" Dudley's watery blue eyes struck Harry to the core. Dudley cared?

The kitchen features started to take on an odd tilt. A strange hollow buzzing sound filled his ears. Harry watched Aunt Petunia throw her apron over her head and run crying from the room. It all happened in slow-motion. Blurry slow-motion. The buzzing sound was back and it was really strange. Harry batted at his ear while he looked around for the source. Maybe some of those pixies had broken into the kitchen?

Suddenly, Dudley's concerned face appeared right in front of him. His cousin's portly features seemed to waver and pull as if reflected in a funhouse mirror. From far away, Harry heard the dark, gravelly voice of Professor Snape saying that he'd better sit down before he fell down.

Harry muttered that he was fine, even as the world faded to black.

Severus Snape spat the most vile curses in his repertoire as he carried an unconscious Harry Potter up the stairs, to the boy's bloody bedroom. His very skin crawled from contact with the

dirty form in his arms. Merlin knew, cleansing charms only went so far to counteract that much filth.

What had possessed him to act that way? Potter wasn't his charge, or even in his mild concern. Sure, he had actually heard those stories with which he had so blithely taunted Petunia. He found the irony of them very amusing and had laughed, not at all nicely, at the time. He enjoyed anything that humbled that overindulged brat.

Only now, the brat didn't seem so overindulged. Severus shifted Harry's weight in his arms, freeing the boy's foot snagged on the stair handrail. He cursed the Dursley boy's reaction to his magic, forcing him to carry Harry's grimy body instead of simply levitating the boy up the stairs. Severus had been sure the overweight teen would wet his pants at the mere sight of a wand.

The foot, sockless and scraped, finally was free and Severus continued up the stairs. Why should he care if Potter was too spineless to protest his downtrodden position? Those Muggles were obviously stupid enough to manipulate easily. Potter needed to take control of this situation.

However, that wasn't what really bothered him. The root of his unease was his own behavior. What had possessed him to bark at Petunia that way? There was no question that he had lost control.

Severus followed Dudley Dursley's overlarge rear up the last stair and down the hall, to the door covered in locks. At the bottom of the door was a small pet flap, currently locked closed from the outside. The small flap would be entirely unsuitable for Potter's owl to use. Severus wondered if the boy had somehow acquired another pet? Since students were only allowed one pet at school, he might utilize this new information to detract Gryffindor points, at the return of the school year.

Dudley fumbled with the door locks with nervous fingers. It pleased Severus to no end that he had this effect on the youth. Scared usually meant compliant. Severus was in no mood for coddling.

Potter was beginning to get heavy in his arms. Severus shifted the dead weight upwards, trying to get a better grip. "Any time now, Mr. Dursley," he growled. Severus could hear Petunia sobbing loudly in the bedroom down the hall. He hoped she would stay away. What had possessed him to act that way toward her? Why had he lost control of his temper? That same temper was rising now at this inane delay.

"Why are there so many locks on this door?" Severus snarled. "I would prefer to put Potter in his bedroom. You are wasting my time."

Dudley finally finished with the last lock and swung the door open. Flashing a trembling glance at Snape's stormy expression, he merely replied, "This _is_ Harry's room."

Severus groaned. He did not need more overt evidence of the Dursleys' neglect. What was Dumbledore thinking, placing the boy here? Were these Muggles so afraid of magic that they felt the need for, Severus counted silently, twelve different locks?

Turning sideways to get through the lock-saturated door, Severus stepped into Potter's bedroom, looking around. There wasn't much to see; a threadbare bed covered in a dingy sheet, a tattered desk with one leg shorter than the other three, a wardrobe with a broken hinge and a well cared-for and empty owl cage, with fresh shavings, food and water. This room was even shabbier than his dismal quarters at Spinner's End. Severus sighed and dropped the boy down on the bed rather carelessly. His action was met with a loud yowl from underneath.

"I don't remember Potter having a cat," Severus muttered to himself.

"It's m-m-m-mine," Dudley stuttered from behind him.

Severus spun on the trembling teen. "Then, why have you locked it in this room?"

"I don't have a cat box," Dudley answered, his eyes wide. "Are you going to hex me?"

"Do you think not having a cat box warrants hexing?" Severus asked with a snort.

Dudley shook his head vigorously in denial. Layers of unhealthy fat jiggled at the movement.

"Why didn't you just open the cat flap on the door? The beast could then get outside to take care of his natural business." Bored with the conversation, Snape moved to the desk inspecting the correspondence. He carelessly thumbed through a dozen letters from Potter's annoying friends. Under the latest letter was a finished potions essay. So, Potter had managed to finish his summer

homework after all. Reading through the opening paragraph, Snape itched to correct a missing comma in the very first sentence.

"Oh, that's not for the cat," Dudley replied, edging for the door.

"Hold right there," Snape ordered, not looking up. The essay was disgustingly correct, although littered with grammatical errors. You'd think the boy would have mastered the use of a simple comma by this point in his education.

Setting the paper back down, Severus looked up at the nervous teen. "Explain what you mean. Do not doubt that I will know if you are lying," he said, glaring at the boy.

Dudley gulped, alarmed. "It's a dinner flap, you know, for Harry, when he's locked in."

"Does that happen often?" Snape didn't really want to know, but he asked anyway. He now fervently wished he had never set up this whole scenario. He wished that he had never stepped inside Privet Drive.

"I dunno," Dudley stammered, growing red-faced. "I guess so. I've never paid too much attention."

Severus stared at Dudley's discomfort. He should just make sure that Potter wasn't going to expire anytime soon and get clear of this place. He didn't want to get involved. He certainly didn't want to confront Petunia again. His backside still burned from her touch. Severus supposed that was the real reason he had rounded on Petunia in the kitchen, retaliation against her intrusions, verbal and personal.

Severus had never taken kindly to anyone invading his personal space without a direct invitation. Petunia certainly hadn't received one from him. She never would. His words were intended to wound, to attack her sense of superiority. Severus had figured rightly, Petunia would care deeply about how other people viewed her treatment of her nephew. Her reputation was her greatest concern.

As for his actual accusations, Severus was surprised to discover he could no longer ignore or dismiss the essence of what he had said. Potter was neglected and in poor health. He also wasn't lying about the latent accidental magic surrounding the cupboard under the stairs. Severus may have said those harsh words to Petunia in a sole effort to lash back at her insults and liberties, but in the end, he had to admit to himself that he spoke the truth. There was no evading the evidence. Dumbledore was going to get an earful from him.

Dudley squirmed under the scrutiny. Finally, he asked, "Is Harry going to be all right?" Dudley pointed at the bed. "He looks pretty bad."

Resisting the urge to flee the room, Severus turned back toward the bed. Potter was sprawled out, still unconscious. Severus could see a long black tail peeking from under the bed, thrashing

in annoyance. Perversely, it was comforting to know that he wasn't the only thing irritated in this room.

"I am going to pull out my wand and check his condition." Severus stared the boy down. "Can you handle that much magic?"

Dudley nodded his head and scratched in stomach. Severus wondered if there was any skin left under that purple shirt. Pulling his wand out, Severus ran a simple diagnostic spell.

Looking up at Dudley, he slowly put his wand away. "Mr. Potter has simply fainted from low blood sugar, dehydration and fatigue. He needs water, food and rest. As for looking bad, a hot bath should take care of most of that."

"He does stink," Dudley agreed, solemnly.

Severus made up his mind, quickly. "I am going outside to retrieve something that will help your cousin. I want you to fetch him some water. If he awakes before I return, you will keep him here and make him drink at least one full glass. Two would be better."

Severus moved toward the door. He would Apparate back to Spinner's End for a few strengthening potions and be back here within the half-hour. Then, he would find Dumbledore and take great pleasure in detailing the exact nature of Potter's guardians and living conditions.

Passing Dudley on the way out, Severus stopped by the boy. "I am placing Harry's well-being in your hands. Can I count on you?"

Dudley surprised him by nodding firmly, his face resolute. "You can now," he said.

_Tbc . . . _

_**A/N ** I was going to leave off at Harry's faint, but Acacia59601 talked me out of it. After the next chapter, things will start to wrap up. _

_I hope that the characters are not too terribly OC. Harry and especially Dudley have evolved so much. Please drop me a line and tell me what you think. I enjoy the comments more than you can imagine._

_**Thanks for reading!**_


	9. Lightning Over Hogwarts

**Court Ordered Diet**

**by Surplus Imagination**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter, Dudley Dursley and the other characters of the Harry Potter Universe belong to J.K. Rowling. This writing is for pleasure only. No profit is intended. **

_A/N I'm sorry that it has taken me so horribly long to update. I have finished the entire story and now only need to edit. Thank you for being so patient. We left off the story with Snape carrying an unconscious Harry up to his bedroom after a confrontation with Petunia. Snape is both furious at having to care for Harry, whom he despises, and having to confront the boy's living conditions. There is nothing like seeing twelve locks on the door to drive the point home. Now the story continues . . . _

**_Lightning Over Hogwarts_**

Harry woke to the sound of Dudley trying to coax something out from under the bed. Carefully opening his eyes, Harry noticed the low rays of the sun shot through the window to dance on the wall above his bed. It was afternoon, then. Why was he in bed? His head felt strangely light on his shoulders. Harry turned toward the ruckus in his room with extra care.

Dudley was down on all fours, peering under his bed; elbows were bent flat on the floor, rear high in the air. Harry heard him whisper, "Here kitty kitty kitty. Come here, you bloody cat!" From under the bed emerged a loud hiss accompanied by a yowl and a bump against the bottom of the mattress.

Harry remembered Dudley's shirt had been covered in black cat hair. That must be what was under his bed. It didn't sound like the cat wanted to go wherever Dudley wanted it to go. It also sounded big. Really big.

Propping up on one elbow, Harry was rewarded by a nauseous surge in his empty stomach and the unwelcome sight of the crack of Dudley's rear bulging out of the cotton shorts. This was not a sight to wake-up to in a sick bed. At least, he thought he had been sick. Images of Snape yelling at Aunt Petunia crowded his tipsy brain. He must have been hallucinating. Harry felt his own forehead. He didn't seem to have a fever.

The howling under the bed intensified as the mattress vibrated from several impacts. Dudley gave a muffled scream bed before backing out on all fours. Three long, bleeding scratches decorated his pudgy face, from the corner of his eye to the end of his jaw. Harry winced in sympathy. Cat scratches burned.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you not to grab a cat?" Harry asked in amusement. His voice was really raspy and dry. "You'd better put something on those before they start to swell."

"Harry!" Dudley exclaimed, still on all fours. "You have to drink a glass of water!" Dudley heaved his bulk onto his knees, pointing at a full glass resting on the rickety desk. From under the bed, one wicked paw swiped outward, claws extended. Dudley yelped and scooted backwards.

"Is that the cat you smuggled for Rita?" Harry asked, bemused. "How did you manage to keep it in your shirt? I think it hates you." Harry gratefully reached for the glass of water. He was excruciatingly thirsty.

"Cat? Bloody 'lion' is more like it," Dudley groaned, dodging another swipe of sharpened claws. "Did you see his tail? I've never seen a cat with a tail like that before."

Harry stopped in mid-gulp, choking slightly. A lion's tail? Could it be? No, surely not. He set down the mostly empty glass and leaned over the edge of the bed. Giving Dudley a warning glance, Harry lifted the edge of the dingy sheet and looked under the bed, upside-down.

Bright green eyes reflected what part of the afternoon light that reached under the bed. Harry could make out the profile of large, pointed ears and long whiskers. It looked like an ordinary large cat. Harry scooted further over the edge to reach under the mattress. His stomach sloshed alarmingly from the guzzled water. He wiggled his fingers invitingly and uttered a tentative, "Meow?"

"Meow? Are you mental? That monster practically put my eye out and you 'meow' at it?" Dudley complained loudly.

Harry did feel quite foolish. He remembered Hermione greeting Crookshanks with a meow frequently. His ears started pounding from hanging upside-down as he watched the animal under the bed. After a long pause, the creature meowed back and began to crawl out into the room. Harry pulled himself back on top of the bed. The room spun as his equilibrium reestablished itself.

Harry heard Dudley gasp from a distance. "Nice kitty. You be nice, kitty!" Dudley must have scooted to the furthest corner of the small room for safety.

After what felt like his eyes taking a lazy spin around the back of his head, Harry's vision cleared. Out crawled a black creature with charcoal-gray spots. The effect was very beautiful from the defined tip of large, pointed ears to the sleek black tail. Harry could see the tip of the tail was tufted like a lion, just like Dudley said. Of all the things Harry would have guessed might appear at Privet Drive, this was never one of them.

"It's a Kneazle," Harry marveled. "You brought it home from the shelter?" He looked up at a cringing Dudley. "Oh, stop that. You can't be that afraid if you had it in your shirt."

That got Dudley's attention. "It was different then. That cat started sniffing me and acting all friendly-like. When Rita asked me to help, he practically jumped into my arms. It wasn't until my skin started itching that I thought this was a bad idea. By then, I was on the bus and couldn't do anything about it." Dudley tensed while the Kneazle turned its head to contemplate the overweight teen. The large, green eyes blinked periodically. "Harry, what's a Kneazle?"

"It's a magical creature. They usually only respond to people like me. They are considered very lucky to have around," Harry replied. He wondered why a magical creature would attach itself to his cousin.

"Well, he didn't give me any luck with Rita," Dudley groused. "She turned me down for a date, again." Leaving the far corner, Dudley cautiously approached the bed to sit on the decrepit chair. The battered furniture groaned under his weight. "He really liked your shoes. Kept sniffing the bag I had 'em in."

Shoes? Harry glanced down at his feet. One foot was naked except for dirt and crusted blood. The other foot was clothed in a filthy sock. Harry suddenly remembered lending Dudley his battered trainers. He wondered how he had scraped his foot, but came up blank. "I don't suppose you brought my shoes back?"

"Yeah," Dudley sighed. He reached on the desk and threw a shopping bag onto the bed. "You owe me seven pounds."

Harry looked inside the bag. Beside his shredded trainers was a brightly-white pair of new trainers. They were so white it hurt to look at them. Dudley bought him new shoes? Dudley?

The bed dipped from a sudden weight. Harry looked up to see the Kneazle nuzzling the bag. The creature seemed enamored with his old shoes. With slow movements, Harry reached over and stroked the soft fur. The Kneazle raised green eyes to penetrate his own. After a moment of allowing the caress, the Kneazle stepped away to curl up on the bed. Both teens stared at as the catlike creature lazily closed its eyes to doze.

"A Kneazle with a dirty-shoe fetish," Harry muttered. Turning to Dudley, he offered, "Thanks Dudley. I'll pay you back."

A sharp rap on the door drew their attention. Without waiting for an invitation, the door opened to admit Severus Snape. It was brutally obvious that the man was seriously peeved. He stormed into the room like a thunderclap, black hair flying about cheeks stained red in irritation. Without a word, Snape strode up to the bed thrusting three small vials into Harry's hand.

"Drink," Snape snarled while whipping out his wand.

Harry sat all the way up on the bed and uncapped the first vial. A sniff told him it was a strengthening potion. Harry tossed it back trying to drink without tasting. The second was Pepper Up Potion. He capped that one and set it on the desk. It wouldn't do to take that one in front of his Muggle relatives. The last one he couldn't recognize. It was clear and had an aroma of almonds. Questioningly, he looked up at Snape.

"Is there a problem, Potter?" Snape growled without looking up from his wand waving.

"What is this one?" Harry asked. "I don't recognize it. And I can't take the other one, not in front of Dudley."

Snape froze a moment and then nodded his head. "Very well. That last one is a healing elixir designed to correct physical and emotional exhaustion. It is very precious and requires many hours of exact brewing. You will drink it without complaint, or further questions. Do you understand?" Snape spoke very slowly and coldly. Harry was in no mood to argue with him in this mood. He tipped the bottle back and drank.

Instead of the usual gut-wrenchingly horrible brews, this one was a slightly-sweet syrup laced in almond oil. It was delicious. Harry tapped the bottle of the vial several times to get every drop. It was everything his body craved: a hot meal, a warm blanket and a week of sleep. Harry wished desperately that he had more as he licked the rim of the last traces. Warmth and energy flooded his limbs in surging tingles. The effect was euphorically dizzying.

After a minute, the effects faded into general well-being. Harry looked up and focused on Snape's face. The man was studying him intently even as he pocketed the two empty vials. "What was that? It was wonderful," Harry enthused. "Please sir, can I have some more?"

"No questions, Potter." Snape answered with a guarded expression. "I have undone most of the self-inflicted punishment wreaked on your body. Do not repay me by allowing yourself to become so run-down again. You will not like the next elixir I would bring you." Turning to Dudley, Snape pulled out another vial and placed it in the teen's hand. "You, too, will drink. No questions, Mr. Dursley. Bottoms-up."

Wide-eyed and slack-jawed, Dudley was too intimidated to refuse. Glancing to Harry for reassurance, Dudley brought to vial to his lips with trembling hands. Puckered lips took a hesitant sip, and finding the liquid entirely palatable, Dudley drank the bottle down.

"Not bad," Dudley shrugged his shoulders. "What was it?"

"A potion, a medicine if you will, that should aid you in your weight-loss goals," Snape lectured in the same monotone he used in class. "The basis is a combination of plant extracts that should curb appetite and boost the metabolism. It is equally effective on Muggles as Wizards." He leaned threateningly over Dudley to pluck the empty bottle from a meaty hand. "It also has the extra benefit to cause severe and painful vomiting if you consume more than your body can burn. In short, if you binge, you will purge . . . and purge . . . and purge, most unpleasantly." Snape smiled in a cruel predatory way. "I suggest you adhere to the diet plan Potter has laid out. The effects should be the most potent for the next twelve weeks." Dudley merely nodded his agreement frantically.

Harry had to wonder if Snape was bluffing or not. He supposed that it didn't really matter as long as Dudley believed. This was yet another reason to be grateful to his least favorite professor. Harry wasn't sure he could handle so much at one time.

From his spot on the bed, the Kneazle lightly jumped down to twine around Snape's legs. The creature was obviously smitten, rubbing the length of his body sinuously against the man's legs. Snape ceased his menacing of Dudley to look surprised at the animal at his feet. At his look, the Kneazle broke into a loud purr.

"I didn't know you had such a pet," Snape said, distractedly. He crouched down to pet the catlike animal. In turn, the Kneazle enthusiastically responded with a frenzy of head-rubbing and intensified purrs.

"He seems to like you, sir," Harry volunteered with surprise. He watched Snape continue to pet the Kneazle, his stony face relaxing with each stroke. Who would have thought Snape to be a cat person?

"I have never seen such a magnificent specimen," Snape muttered, obviously enthralled. "Its coloring is unique. I don't think I've seen one with charcoal markings. You are a very lucky wizard to have such a creature attached to you."

"He's not mine. He belongs to Dudley," Harry answered, with regret. Harry knew that he would have to find a home for this creature the moment Snape left, regardless of whether Dudley owned it or not.

Snape looked up surprised. "He belongs to your cousin? This was the cat he mentioned?" Snape gave the Kneazle one last, long stroke and rose to his feet. "Mr. Dursley, I would like to purchase this animal from you. Are you interested in selling? A magical creature like this one is undoubtedly a source of trouble for you in your world."

Dudley blinked a few times without answering. Harry wondered if his cousin had even heard the question. Just as he was going to interfere, Dudley spoke up.

"I might be interested. What are you offering?" Dudley answered, rubbing his hands together.

_Three hours earlier . . . _

"Albus, you unsufferable old man, where are you?" Severus Snape growled as he emerged from the spiral stairs into the Headmaster's Office. His face was a thundercloud of rage.

"Come in, Severus," the aged wizard replied from his overstuffed chair by the fire. "Come in, my boy. Have some fruit cake. I must say, the house-elves have outdone themselves this time."

Albus Dumbledore smiled benevolently over a hovering plate of half-eaten cake. Albus's beard was liberally sprinkled in crumbs. At a gesture, a second slice of cake rose into the air on it's own flying plate.

With a flick on his own wrist, Snape sent the cake and plate crashing against the wall. "I've just come from Little Whinging. Number four, Privet Drive to be exact," Snape snarled. "How could you leave a child in a place like that?"

Dumbledore's face slid from happiness to sorrow. "My word, Severus. This is most unexpected."

An adult wizard is a powerful being. The magic flowing through their veins can easily affect the elements around them. Heightened emotions have been known to result even in changes of weather. On a clear summer's day, a single, malevolent storm cloud churned just above the headmaster's tower as Severus Snape throughly enlightened Albus Dumbledore as to the state of affairs in one Harry Potter's home life. Lightning formed to strike repeatedly at the tower's windows.

"And furthermore, you old conjurer, if you don't remove the boy from that Muggle hell, I will!"

The echo of Snape's threat lingered in the Headmaster's Office just like the smell of ozone from the last volley of lightning strikes. Snape's temper had unleashed a thunderstorm of emotions that literally left the Headmaster's Office smoking from scorch marks. Albus marveled at the damage around him. It was truly impressive.

"That was most unexpected," he muttered to himself.

Harry's plight on Privet Drive was not unknown to him. On the contrary, Albus was guilty of every blame Severus threw at him this day. True, he had been unaware of the extent of the neglect and abuse, but he had always known that things weren't, well, ideal. The weight of that knowledge pressed on him as he summoned a quill and wrote:

_Dear Harry,_

_If it is convenient to you, I shall call at number four, Privet this coming Friday at eleven P.M. to escort you to the Burrow, where you have been invited to spend the remainder of your school holidays ._

_**TBC** _

_The letter is a partial reprint of Chapter Three - Will and Won't send by Dumbledore to Harry in the Half-Blood Prince. I thought that I could bridge to the sixth book this way. Of course, the rest of the chapter is just from my own imagination._

_I hope you enjoyed this. My deepest apologies for not continuing this story sooner. The pressures of my life have enveloped my time forcing me to abandon most of my pleasurable hobbies. In short, I've been busier than Hermione with three Time Turners. _

_Please take a moment to either bash me for taking so long, or encouraging me to finish. Thanks for reading! _

_Surplus Imagination_


	10. Let's Make a Deal

**Court Ordered Diet**

**by Surplus Imagination**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter, Dudley Dursley and the other characters of the Harry Potter Universe belong to J.K. Rowling. This writing is for pleasure only. No profit is intended.**

_A/N Thank you all for the wonderful reviews! We are almost done. Only one or two chapters are remaining. We pick back up in Harry's bedroom. Snape has unexpectedly offered to buy Dudley's (?) Kneazle._

**_Let's Make a Deal_**

Dudley Dursley may be fat, slothful and somewhat stupid, but he did know how to get the best out of a bargain. Looking out for number one, himself, was a skill he had perfected over the years.

"I might be interested. What are you offering?" Dudley answered, rubbing his hands together.

Harry could see that Snape was taken aback by the previously cowed teenager. Dudley's manner had lost all submissiveness. The boy sat back on his heels causing his stomach to mushroom out over his knees. The scratches on Dudley's face were starting to redden and swell, giving the boy a rakish look.

"I do have some funds at my disposal. How does fifty pounds strike you?" Snape offered smartly.

Harry's brow furled in confusion. Snape was bargaining? And he appeared completely comfortable doing so. Harry couldn't help but wonder where Snape was going to get fifty pounds and how he knew what they were.

"Fifty pounds?" snorted Dudley. "Are you off your nut? This is a valuable animal. It's worth more than fifty measly pounds." Dudley leaned forward slightly. "What makes you think that I want money anyway?" To emphasis his point, Dudley waggled his eyebrows up and down, suggestively.

"Indeed? Well, how about gold or precious stones? I have a few items to offer," Snape said, lifting his wand. "I can have them here in a thrice."

Harry felt his forehead for fever. Surely he was hallucinating. Snape was going to casually do magic? Here? In his bedroom? And why wasn't Dudley panicking at the sight of the wand? If anything, Snape's quick counteroffer gave Dudley even more confidence.

"What would I do with something like that?" Dudley snorted. "I have plenty of money. What would I do with gold or stuff? No, I want Rita."

"Rita?" Snape asked warily. He turned toward Harry. "Is that a thing, or a person?"

"That's the girl Dudley keeps asking out. She keeps turning him down," Harry replied with a shrug. It was really strange that he felt so good when he was obviously sick. This just couldn't be happening.

"That's right, Rita. I want you to make sure Rita goes out with me," Dudley said, chins wobbling. "Oh, and I want her to kiss me, too."

At this Snape's eyebrows shot up to the ceiling. "I am certainly not a matchmaker, or a . . . a . . . a . . . ,"

"Pimp," Harry finished for him, lying back down. Maybe if he closed his eyes and opened them again, the world would return to normal.

Snape shot Harry a black look. "I'll thank you, Mr. Potter, to stay out of things." Snape turned back to Dudley. "Would a potion to enhance your attraction suffice?"

"What's that?" Dudley asked, turning to Harry, who was now busy wiggling his toes.

"He's offering you a potion to make you more likable to Rita. A love potion. Right, Professor Snape?" Harry grinned wickedly at the ceiling. "Wouldn't that violate about half a dozen Muggle Acts?"

"Not if one is clever," Snape gritted out. "I suggest that you keep your opinions to yourself. I would hate to inform the Headmaster of your Uncle's problems."

Ok, so it was time to abandon that line of thought. This was a very strange day. Harry gave his toes one more flex and sighed. "Can anyone tell me how I scraped my foot?"

"Your foot snagged on the railing in the stairwell," Snape growled.

"Will it get me a kiss?" Dudley interrupted. "I definitely want a kiss."

Snape turned back to Dudley. Harry was gratified to hear irritation in the low, gravelly voice. He stopped wiggling his toes to turn on his side to watch the exchange. Dudley was still kneeling on the floor with a broad smirk on his face. Snape still crouched petting the Kneazle. Harry wished that he had a camera. Ron & Hermione would never believe him without a picture. Maybe he could borrow a Pensieve somewhere.

"There are no guarantees as to the extent of her response. But yes, I will make it strong enough that even you, Mr. Dursley, should be able to get a kiss in the bargain." Snape stared Harry down as if to dare him to speak again. Harry threw his hands out in submission.

"I suppose that will be okay. I just need a foot in the door, so to speak," Dudley said. "A foot in the door and the Dursley charm will work its magic." Dudley turned to Snape and leered, "Girls can't resist me."

"Except for Miss Rita, apparently. Very well, Mr. Dursley. It's a bargain." Snape snapped and started to stand.

"Not so fast," Dudley said, struggling to his feet. A newborn hippopotamus would have exhibited more grace. "I want the love-thingy . . . and . . . and . . . and . . . I want you to rip up that paper you made Harry sign." Dudley gave a decisive nod. "Yes, both of those things, plus the fifty pounds."

"I thought you didn't want money?" Snape roared.

"I have to be able to pay for my date with Rita, you know," Dudley explained.

At this moment, the Kneazle started rub figure-eights around Snape's legs. Harry watched in amazement as his least favorite professor's face softened at the sight. Who would have thought that Snape was a cat person?

"Very well, the potion and the fifty pounds. However, I cannot rip up the paper Mr. Potter signed. It is a wizard's oath and cannot be voided." Snape stooped and scooped up the Kneazle. The creature actually started purring and gently patted Snape's nose with its paw. "There's nothing that I can do," Snape trailed off.

"No deal," Dudley declared.

"What?" both Snape and Harry exclaimed.

Harry pinched himself, hard. This was so not happening.

"Are you both deaf? I said 'no deal'," Dudley replied. "Give me back that cat." Dudley reached for the Kneazle only to be rewarded with a hiss and a swat.

Harry's dumbfounded surprise at Dudley's declaration was only exceeded by what happened next. When Dudley reached for the Kneazle, Snape pulled the animal back into a protective embrace. "Let's not be hasty, Mr. Dursley." Snape paused to sooth the spitting creature. When the Kneazle calmed, he looked back up. "I cannot rip up the agreement. However, Mr. Potter is still free to pursue a potions education from a source other than my class, provided that it is not named 'Advanced Level Potions'. Will that information seal the deal?" Snape coolly offered.

"Dunno. Will it, Harry?" Dudley responded.

"Where would I get another potions education?" Harry asked, bewildered.

"Hire a tutor. Take a correspondence course. Study on your own. Ask that insufferable Know-It-All Granger to design a program and monitor your progress. I care not," Snape sharply replied. "Any half-decent Slytherin would have figured out the loophole in this agreement as soon as the ink dried." Snape turned to Dudley. "Do we have a deal?"

Dudley nodded. "Don't forget to make it strong enough for a kiss. A big one. And the sixty pounds, too."

"The deal is for a potion and fifty pounds, Mr. Dursley," Snape snapped. "Do not irritate me further. And do not forget my warnings about your weight-loss efforts." Dudley gulped his agreement.

"Mr. Potter, I expect you to tell no one of what transpired this day. There are events that can put us both in an unfavorable light." Snape's eyes glittered as he paused. The Kneazle rubbed its head on the underside of Snape's chin appealingly. "You should expect word from the Headmaster before the week is out," he continued. "Do not make me come back here to correct your self-neglect. You need to eat regularly and stay hydrated." Snape paused once again, seemingly lost in thought. After a full minute, he sighed and moved toward the door cradling the Kneazle in his arms.

"Yes, Professor Snape," Harry answered. It had been a confusing day. He would have to think long and hard to sort this one out in his head.

"I will owl the potion and the money to you by Wednesday, Mr. Dursley." Snape said as he left the room. "I can see myself out, gentlemen."

With that, Severus Snape was gone.

Harry laid back down on the bed. The euphoria the potion had garnered seemed to be fading fast. He suddenly wanted nothing more than a long nap. Well, maybe a shower first, then definitely a nap. His eyes seemed to close on their own accord. As Harry drifted off, he vaguely heard Dudley get up and leave the room muttering, "Now that was interesting."

_TBC_

_There is just one more chapter to go. This story will bridge into Book 6 with Dumbledore taking Harry to the Burrow for the rest of the summer. I'm considering an epilogue of letters from Dudley through the rest of the summer. Would such a thing interest you? I'm wavering on the subject. _

**_Also, it would be a real treat to me to breech 100 reviews for the story. If you are enjoying yourself, please drop me a line. Thanks for reading_!**

**Surplus Imagination**


	11. It's All True, Every Word!

**Court Ordered Diet**

**by Surplus Imagination**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter, Dudley Dursley and the other characters of the Harry Potter Universe belong to J.K. Rowling. This writing is for pleasure only. No profit is intended. **

_A/N: Yeah! The End! I hope you like the finish. I've agonized over it and rewrote it at least five times. Then, I lost the file on all but 774 words and had to rewrite the rest. Lesson to be learned: always print a hard copy when the chapter is complete! I hope you enjoy._

**_It's All True, Every Word _**

The next day brought myriad changes. Harry woke refreshed for the first time in weeks. After a much needed shower and change of clothes, Harry was surprised to find Aunt Petunia cooking breakfast downstairs. Not only was she cooking, she had set a place for Harry as well.

Uncle Vernon still looked pale, but tucked into his eggs, sausage and tomatoes with gusto. Dudley was eating a bowl of bran cereal without the usual disgusted look on his face. Everyone was completely silent. That suited Harry just fine as he inhaled all the food placed in front of him. Mumbling his thanks, Harry went out the back door to work on the garden.

Sometime around noon, the back door opened and a plate with two sandwiches was placed on the step. Surprised, Harry broke for lunch tearing hungrily into the unexpected meal. While he was eating, a brown school-owl delivered a letter from Dumbledore saying he was coming, this Friday evening, to take Harry to the Burrow. Dumbledore was coming to Privet Drive? That was as strange as Snape's appearance. Harry had to wonder if Snape had talked to Dumbledore about what happened. If the letter hadn't mentioned the Burrow, Harry would have thought that Dumbledore was coming to expel him and break his wand.

That evening, Dudley had another father-supervised weigh-in. It wasn't pleasant.

"You're down twelve pounds," Uncle Vernon exclaimed to a stunned Dudley. "Dammed scale must be broken," he muttered, glowering at Harry. "You had better not put any of your funny-business on this scale!"

"No, Uncle Vernon. Dudley has been keeping to task," Harry was able to truthfully say. Privately, he was fairly impressed with twelve pounds, considering the week they just had. Dudley was half way to his judge-ordered weight loss goals.

"Daaaddddd! I can't believe that you don't believe that I can't lose weight!" Dudley cried, stepping off the scale. One chubby foot kicked the metal instrument halfway across the room.

Harry clamped down on his tongue, hard, to keep from pointing out that he couldn't 'believe' that statement. The double, or was it triple, negative was just screaming to be identified. For some strange reason, Harry kept noticing the grammatical errors around him. Somehow, he was certain that Snape was responsible. It had been happening since the 'incident'.

Dudley erupted into a teen's version of a temper tantrum as he sensed the imminent break in parental control. Uncle Vernon was sure to give in to Dudley's temper. There was no mystery as to origin of Dudley's worst personal habits. Father and son deserved each other, each the product of the other's manipulation. Harry rolled his eyes in disgust as Uncle Vernon comforted a distraught Dudley with a meaty wad of cash.

The next couple of days passed quickly. Aunt Petunia continued to cook all the meals and kept Harry's plate full. She also pointedly avoided looking him directly in the eye, much to Harry's intense relief. The events of the last week were still too fuzzy and painful. Harry didn't really want confirmation of what he thought had happened with Snape was true. Deep down, he knew it was. Harry just wasn't ready to deal with his Aunt about it.

Dudley kept to his diet, performed his workouts on schedule and even kept up with his studies. For the first time in his fifteen years of life, Dudley was trying. Harry felt the surprising stir of pride in Dudley's accomplishments and his own abilities as a reluctant teacher.

Not everything was perfect, though. Dudley's maturing behavior often relapsed into a childish one. Oddly, Dudley started to recognize these regressive moments and took to cutting them off more quickly. Dudley was growing up. Harry still spent several frustrating hours, each day, correcting Dudley's work and trying to explain the confusing elements of commas, hyphens and semicolons. Dudley struggled to learn and actually made progress.

Each evening, Dudley would spend hours grooming his hair and trying on different types of clothing for his coming date with Rita. Harry made the appropriate gagging noises when asked his opinion of Dudley's fashion sense. Harry's life had never been so, well, normal.

The deep ache of Sirius' loss crept into Harry's mind at odd moments. The work in the garden no longer kept the memories at bay. Harry was never again able to regain the fever-pitch of effort needed to block the world out. At least each episode was somewhat less painful than the previous time. He was even remembering the good times instead of just the Veil. Harry supposed that he was healing. He wasn't really sure what to make of that. He would be sure to ask Hermione when next he saw her.

On Tuesday, Dudley went to the police station and repainted their front door, with Harry's help that is.

"Stop slopping paint all over the place," Harry barked at his green-splattered cousin. "It takes a whole lot longer to get paint off of things than to put it on correctly." Harry sighed as Dudley sloshed green paint on his new, white trainers. "Dudley! Watch what you are doing!"

"I am, Harry. Move your bloody feet somewhere else," Dudley replied. The overweight teen's face was flushed with the summer heat. His tongue stuck out the side of his mouth in a gesture of concentration. Dudley was painting a figure outline of a girl on the police station's door; a girl with obviously large . . . assets. Other than the overblown proportions, the drawing was rather good, in a crude way.

"Rita?" Harry asked, impressed.

"Rita," Dudley affirmed, with a nod. "Of course, there's not enough room to really show her . . . " Dudley finished with a burlesque bump and grind and a gesture of cupped hands.

Harry responded to that little show with a wipe of paint across the masterpiece. "Let's get finished, Romeo."

"Who?" Dudley gaped.

"Right," Harry said, completely covering the figure. "We'll get to Shakespeare right after tea."

Harry also reworked Mrs. Figg's garden in decorative cabbages and larkspur, as promised. Mrs. Figg supervised the renovation from her front window, surrounded by her cats. The woman never blinked. Harry was just a little creeped-out by all the surveillance. Mr. Tibble's stare was the most unnerving. He didn't blink either.

Dudley was absolutely no help. He just played with the new kittens all day and regaled Harry with tales of Rita's attributes. For some reason, Harry didn't mind Dudley's ramblings. He would never admit it, but he actually enjoyed the babble.

On Wednesday, the package from Snape arrived. Dressed-up in a pair of khaki pants and a flowered Hawaiian shirt, Dudley downed the 'love potion' in one gulp and sauntered off to ask Rita out. That evening, Harry relaxed in the finished back garden. It was magnificent. Perfect. The fragrance of the blooming Fairy's Lure was sweet in the evening air. The garden contest was scheduled for the next morning. Harry was confident of another win.

Dudley came home at dusk sporting a lipstick smear on one cheek and a goofy grin on top of his double-chin. The potion worked. A date with Rita had been set for the coming Saturday.

"Told you that all I needed was a foot in the door," Dudley crowed. "The Dursley charm never fails." Dudley two-stepped his way up the back steps, dancing with an imaginary partner. On the top step, Dudley tripped and landed noisily into the back door. _He may have charm, but he definitely lacks grace_, Harry mused to himself.

Harry felt a pang of regret that he would not be at Privet Drive to find out how the date went. That is, if Dumbledore was serious about taking Harry to the Burrow.

As the week passed, that event seemed more and more unlikely. After all, things were going far too smoothly and the events of last week seemed like a vague dream. And there was that continuing grammar obsession . . .

When Friday arrived, Harry convinced himself that Dumbledore's letter was all a hoax. He didn't pack his things, or say anything to his relatives. He had received another letter from Ginny cheerfully describing the antics of her new puppy, Snitch, and the summer happenings of her current boyfriend, Dean Thomas. Harry's chest constricted with an unnamed emotion as he read the letter. Dudley was wrong about Ginny's previous letter. Ginny didn't like him. He was happy about that, right? Harry's emotions swirled from relaxed to depressed in regular cycles.

As the sun set on Privet Drive that Friday evening, Harry saw not one, but three fairies flitting about the back garden. They were beautiful little things, innocent and playful. He also caught sight of a garden gnome tugging at the blue ribbon proclaiming 'First Place' resting on the freshly painted garden fence. The pond still lacked magical Koi, but the garden was filled with magical beauty. Smiling at his accomplishments, Harry went inside to go to bed.

Harry read the letter from Dumbledore for the millionth time. He was still uncertain what would happen at eleven o'clock. Clutching the letter in his hand, Harry felt deeply asleep dreaming of fairies, judge's gavels and a red-haired Ginny.

_The Burrow, 4:45 a.m._

"I'm telling you, it's all true," Harry protested against laughter. "Every word."

"Honestly, Harry, the entire tale is completely implausible. Dudley poisoned your uncle with a weight loss potion you brewed in your kitchen?" Hermione sat cross-legged on the floor in Ron's bedroom. A look of complete skepticism dominated her face. "You actually brewed a successful potion in your kitchen?" Her voice went up on the last word.

"Don't forget the part about Dudders getting stuck in the cupboard under the stairs," Ron interjected. "Tell that part again. I love it that he got stuck!"

"Which made your uncle sick because Dudley spiked his tea?" Hermione continued.

"Dudley was mad at the moment. Uncle Vernon was yelling at him for gaining back some of the weight he had lost," Harry grinned at the memory.

"Which made your uncle so ill that you were forced to write Snape for help?" Hermione shrieked. "You actually wrote Snape, Harry? Snape? Were you mad?"

"Well, he did send me the original recipe," Harry mused, shifting his weight. Ron's bedroom floor was very hard. His bum was going to sleep. "I know it sounds odd."

Hermione gave Harry a blank stare while Ron rolled around on the floor, laughing himself to agony. Snitch, the golden retriever puppy, scampered in and happily jumped on Ron's prone form.

"I can't go on," Hermione finally stated. "It's just too bizarre."

"Don't forget the blackmail," Ron added from under the wiggling mound of puppy fur. Choking on a hairy mouthful, Ron said in a mock-serious voice, "I, for one, totally believe you, Harry. Never in a million years could you make up a story like that one."

Harry just pulled out a much-folded piece of parchment from his back pocket. He handed it to Hermione with a flourish. He winked at Ron and drug the hyper puppy over to his own lap. Snitch was a really good name for the dog. He moved like a Snitch. Harry wondered where Ginny was, but was too cowardly to ask. He peered hopefully out the open bedroom door. Ginny's bedroom door was firmly closed.

Relieved of puppy mass, Ron levered himself up on one elbow to read over Hermione's hand. "Blimey, Harry! It's all true!"

"Yes," Hermione mused, her lips quirked with amusement before breaking into a wide grin. "Unbelievable!"

"And your Aunt Petunia really pinched Snape's bum?" Ron's face screwed up in disgust. "Ewww!"

"I wonder how that Kneazle got into a Muggle animal shelter," Hermione asked. She patted her lap enticingly to the puppy. "Crookshanks is half-Kneazle, you know. I wonder if there are any more? Magical creatures in Muggle shelters, I mean. How often does that happen?"

Harry shrugged his shoulders. Hermione had researched her pet shortly after the purchase and had told them all, repeatedly, about her findings. Harry also wondered how Dudley could see the Kneazle for what it was, but wisely kept that question to himself. The last thing he needed was for Hermione to start a research project about his relatives.

Harry kept Snitch from switching to Hermione with some basic roughhousing. Snitch obliged by gnawing on Harry's arm with puppy-sharp teeth. Hermione snorted her frustration at his efforts.

Throwing his body back down onto the floor, Ron asked sleepily, "Harry, does all this mean that Dudley is now your mate?"

That was a sobering thought. Harry paused in his play with Snitch. The puppy decided that enough was enough and bounded out the door and down the hall, nails scrambling on the wooden floors. Harry idly watched the puppy scratch at Ginny's door as he considered his answer. What exactly was Dudley to him?

"Dunno, Ron," Harry quietly answered. "I wouldn't go that far." Ginny's door opened a crack to let Snitch in. Harry felt a pang of disappointment that she didn't come out.

"I think it's wonderful," Hermione enthused. "How two boys could be raised in the same household and not feel like brothers is beyond me."

"No," Harry said suddenly. "Dudley's not my brother. He's not my mate. What we have is an understanding," he finished. _And that's a whole lot more than it used to be_, he added silently.

"Oy, I'm tired," Ron yawned. "I'm for bed."

Hermione clamored to her feet giving Harry's hair a ruffle. "That's some story, Harry. Too bad we can't tell it around."

"Yeah," Harry yawned as well. "Night, Hermione. Say 'night' to Ginny for me, will you?" Hermione gave him a sharp look as she left the room. Harry looked over at Ron on the floor. The gangly redhead was mostly asleep. It was past five in the morning, after all. "Night, Ron." Soft snores answered him.

Harry crawled into the orange blankets on the camp cot set up for him in Ron's room. As he closed his tired eyes, Harry wondered if the fairies would stay in the garden at Privet Drive without him there. It had been such a strange summer. Good, he realized with surprise, but strange.

_**The End**_

_The time between Harry's falling asleep in his bedroom and the scene at the Burrow is covered in The Half-Blood Prince. I really liked that section of the book. Dumbedore's visit to the Dursley's is a very good read and worth repeating. _

_An epilogue of letters is still to follow. I still have loose ends (and a swarm of pixies) to tie up. I'm taking requests for items to be included in the letters. You all give me the best ideas!_

_Thank you all so much for reading. Reviews are like fine chocolates, I'm always begging for more! Please review._

_Surplus Imagination._


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